Fictional
by Dark-Syaoran
Summary: The dictionary defined fiction as thus: something feigned, invented, or imagined; a made-up story. The act of feigning, inventing, or imagining. Yes, Harry thought, this defined him nicely. Harry Potter & Fate/Stay Night Crossover.
1. Chapter 1

A surge of magic.

A brief flash of blinding light.

A smooth, young voice.

"Tell me..."

A pause, an unnatural stillness hanging in the air.

Then...

"Are you my master?"

-x-**X**-x- Day One -x-**X**-x-

Staring at the various books spread on the table – seven in all – he had trouble coming to terms with what he was seeing, but knew there was no denying it.

It was a strange feeling, he had decided quickly, knowing that you were nothing but the figment of someone else's considerable imagination. That all his memories – of family and friends, of _life_ – were essentially fake. That everything he fought for – fought _against_ – was also nothing but a lie; that it never actually _happened_. Just a grand tale spun and weaved into words, with no basis in truth, published here in these books for the world to see.

He shifted uncomfortably, hands running across the smooth fabric of his wizarding robe, hand pausing over his heart as he felt the methodical beat pound beneath his skin.

And how did he know that this wasn't just some elaborate illusion? Some spell or potion used to ensnare his senses? To make him think these things, these unnerving, unsettling, upsetting notions?

He just _did_.

Just like he knew that he was in Japan, a place called Fuyuki City, even though he was told no such thing.

Just like he knew there was something called the Holy Grail Wars and that he had been summoned to take part in the coming skirmish, a battle to the death with six others who were summoned for the same purpose as he.

Just like he knew of the various rules that every Servant – and their Masters – must adhere too, even without being told of such matters.

Just like he knew that if you were the last one standing, when all other Servants and Masters had been defeated, you were granted your deepest desire by the grail upon its completion.

He just _knew_.

Strange it might be, but it's something he could accept without much difficulty.

But regardless of that acceptance, these books...

They were his life in ink.

Opening the first, he scanned the pages, ignoring the fact that he could understand it all even when written in Japanese. Reading about his life was mind boggling to say the least, but reading about his life in a _fictional_ book was something else entirely. Skipping a few pages, he smiled slightly as he read about his unpleasant childhood, the words forming distinct images in his head. He could see Uncle Vernon clearly, with his large neck and bristling moustache. Aunt Petunia was next, with her upturned nose and horse-like features. And Dudley, the pig-in-a-wig that liked to beat up on his younger cousin.

He could make out number four, Privet Drive perfectly; the lounge and its assorted furniture, the immaculate kitchen that he had been forced to clean almost every single day, the upstairs bedrooms he rarely visited and the small, cramped – but well kept – bathroom.

The cupboard under the stairs...

"Still adjusting, hm?" a soft, feminine voice called.

He ignored it and continued his trip down memory lane, if it could even be called that. His Hogwarts letter, the hut on the rock, Hagrid arriving on his birthday and revealing to him a whole other world, a world he had only ever seen in his wildest dreams...

An irritated sigh broke his chain of thought for second, before it continued.

Diagon Alley, the goblins of Gringotts, meeting that little snot of a pureblood for the first time at Madam Malkin's...

"I don't appreciate being ignored, Servant."

Turning, he gazed at her with a neutral expression, eyes gliding over her form lazily. She was a small woman, but not exceedingly so, the top of her head just reaching under the height of his chin. Her body was clad in an elaborate robe with various layers, a cloak of purple with golden trim resting atop one of green with a similar design, brought together by a brooch resting in the centre of her chest, also the colour of gold. Under these layers another sheet of purple hugged her body tight like that of a dress, flowing all the way to the ground. Her face was almost completely covered by a green hood with a strange golden ornament, the smooth skin of her soft jaw and firmly pressed lips the only details he could catch a glimpse of.

"Sorry," he offered, though he didn't sound it. He got the feeling she was burning a hole into his chest with her eyes, but ignored it, "Just... reminiscing."

She obviously found what he said hilarious, if the laughter was anything to go by.

"What's so funny?"

As her laughter died down, she answered. "You aren't _real_, boy. What could you be possibly reminiscing about? False memories? Perhaps I chose poorly, if you are going to be this much of an idiot."

He frowned lightly but didn't comment, waiting for his instructions. There was no other reason she would seek him out.

He wasn't disappointed.

"I want you to search the city and gather as much information as you can about the other servants and their masters," here she paused, thinking something over before continuing. "Do not reveal yourself no matter what, understand?"

"Sure,"

Holding out her hand, a small globe of energy formed, violet in colour. It hovered above her palm, swirling languidly, before it shot towards him within the blink of an eye. He felt a slight buzzing sensation as it passed through his chest, a large spike of energy flowing through his veins a few moments later. He couldn't help but gasp softly at the feeling, his entire being trembling with barely restrained power.

"This should allow you to stay outside the temple grounds for the day. Unfortunately, your summoning needed a bit of improvisation."

She watched silently as he recovered from the brief surge in energy he received.

"Do not disappoint me, Servant. I don't take failure lightly."

And with that, she left, the door sliding shut with a soft click. Sighing quietly, he briefly gazed back down at the books before moving towards a separate door. Pausing, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a well polished, slender piece of wood. Tapping the end on his chest, his plain black robes become a simple pair of jeans and a green shirt within seconds, his footwear turning into well worn sneakers. Pocketing the wand, he exited the room, following a narrow hallway until he came upon the outside world. He had to squint for a few moments, eyes adjusting to the bright sun before he started his trek towards the large archway at the other side of the courtyard. His gaze roamed constantly, taking in the impressive size of the temple and the various monks who gave him strange, curious looks, probably unused to seeing a foreigner around these parts so early in the morning.

Reaching the stairs, he descended them quickly even if they were absurdly long – they were nothing compared to Hogwarts, after all – a slight smile on his face. He felt a small tug, a minor drain on his energy as he reached the end, a constant buzz coming from within, but ignored it. He knew what it was and was expected. His summoning had been different, unique. And like his master had told him, required a bit of improvisation. While she held his command spells, the land itself was his anchor, from what he understood of such things.

It didn't take long for him to approach the town proper even with his relaxed, carefree pace. The outer reaches of the town had been decidedly rural, with few houses but large amounts of luscious land, various livestock and crops littering the landscape. The closer he came to the high-rise building in the distance, the more houses and less open land appeared. While it was not cluttered like he was sure the inner part of the city would resemble, it was a vast difference from where he'd begun.

He was in no rush to be anywhere in particular, unlike the various students he saw moving in direction he had just come from, their strides almost panicked as they hurried towards their destination, obviously cutting it close. He wondered for a moment if he should start there, but disregarded that thought quickly, his calm stride never hesitating. While he was sure he could move around the school grounds undetected and unmolested, it was much easier to just wander aimlessly.

However, aimless wandering had his mind abuzz.

Mostly about his past and the coming war that was bound to shake the foundations of this community, in more ways than one.

He wasn't sure how he felt about the whole thing, if he was to be perfectly honest with himself. Like always, it seemed these situations were thrust upon him without consent. He had never been much of a fighter, not really. Short tempered as he was and brief bouts of rage-fuelled cruelty aside – Bellatrix Lestrange at the Department of Mysteries flashed before his minds eye, followed by Draco Malfoy's chest cleaved open by one of his spells – conflict wasn't something he sought very often. Most of the time, nearly all of the time, he had been trying to merely _survive_.

That was when he was truly in his element.

Sidestepping an old woman fluidly, his thoughts returned to his false past and his interrupted self reflection from earlier this morning.

"Hermione," he whispered. "Ron."

They weren't real. Never had been. Never would be.

Ginny. James. Albus-Severus. Lily-Luna.

His family were nothing but words on pages. Looking down at his youthful hands, the memories of his later years felt the most out of place, the most foreign to him. He looked and felt seventeen, maybe eighteen, long before they were even a vague possibility, yet he remembered them.

Dumbledore.

"_After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure."_

Snorting to himself in amusement, he couldn't help but think fondly of his old Headmaster and mentor. If only the old man had truly known how literal his words were.

Voldemort.

He couldn't help but rub the scar that marred his forehead, wincing at the faint throb it gave in response to his thoughts about that man.

Now that was downright worrying, his eyes narrowing slightly at the familiar, horrifying sensation. He wasn't sure if the slight burning that followed was his imagination or something decidedly more sinister in nature.

After a small while, he came to an intersection, forcing him to wait until the lights signalled it was safe to cross. The further he went, the more traffic he encountered – human and motorized – to the point where the streets started becoming quite crowded, but not uncomfortably so. Gazing around with interest and with the intention of distracting himself, he took in the sights of this normal – if a little different to his own – society. He found himself liking what he saw.

Continuing onward, he was able to make out a large red bridge that carried traffic into the heart of the city in the distance, a small but busy café on the corner closest to the massive structure. Nodding to himself, he strode into the establishment a few moments later, weaving his way effortlessly through the patrons, until he came upon an unused table near the back. Seating himself, he idly glanced through the menu, understanding but not comprehending some of the dishes offered but not really caring. In the end, he ordered a pot of tea and unknowingly impressed the waitress with his fluent grasp of her language – or what she thought was her language.

To him, he had been speaking English.

Sipping at his tea quietly, he hummed his approval. Not quite perfect, but good enough. He wasn't particularly fussy, anyway.

Placing the half empty cup down, he took a deep breath before closing his eyes, folding his hands in his lap. Leaning back, he felt his body becoming relaxed, loosening until he moulded against the contours of the chair. Breathing evenly, he focused all his attention on his mana, the chatter surrounding him becoming nothing but a dull murmur. Grasping a hold of his magic, he expanded it as far as he could without releasing it, all his senses falling away until he felt nothing but the calming energy within his body, flowing through his being. Pushing with all his might, he felt his magic brush against everyone in the store before continuing unabated, travelling through physical objects like they didn't exist.

It was slow going, the field of energy expanding at a walkers pace. It didn't help that his sense of time was also shot to hell when in this state.

A strange, pulsing sensation ran through him as he felt his sixth sense brush against that of a magus a few minutes – hours? – later, telling him they were several blocks away, roughly north-east from his position. Another shortly followed, located across the river and amongst the tall buildings he was to visit shortly. A distinct feeling overcome him, a small jolt of pain – or maybe pleasure? It was hard to tell, being so intense - arching up his spine and pooling rather uncomfortably in the back of his head.

It was no magus.

It was definitely another Servant.

He thought he could feel another when his concentration was broken.

Startled, he tensed at the feeling of a soft hand on his shoulder shaking him lightly. He was about to speak when dizziness set in, his magic snapping back into his body like a rubber band. Swaying slightly, he pinched the bridge of his nose – glasses nearly tumbling from his face – and resisted the urge to throw up, trying to steady himself with his other hand against the flat top of the table.

"Are you alright, sir?" the waitress asked, removing her hand. She sounded concerned.

He managed a weak grin as he turned his head towards her, eyes open, "Fine. Just tired."

Her pretty face relaxed, but he could tell she was still worried. Perhaps he had been out a little too long. It was difficult to judge how much time had really passed.

"Did I fall asleep?"

"Uh-Um. Yes, sir."

She flushed, embarrassed for a reason he couldn't fathom. Smiling kindly, he reached into his pocket and worked a bit of magic, pulling out a few notes that until a few seconds ago never existed. Handing them to the surprised girl, he returned to his now cold tea.

"Sorry about that. It won't happen again."

"Ah," she bit her lip in a cute fashion. "It was no trouble at all."

He watched as she returned to work, downing the cold drink and pouring himself another. The pot had kept it warm, at least.

Checking the clock, he noticed it was close to nine. Humming to himself, he paused, cup halfway to his mouth as he stared across the café. A young girl, no older than ten, was staring directly at him, a look of shocked awe on her wide-eyed face. Why she wasn't at school was beyond him, but the look she was directing him was very strange, almost as if she recognized who he wa-

He felt like slapping himself.

"Of all the idiotic..." he muttered to himself, attempting to cover his _obvious_ scar with his fringe. "I hope no one else noticed."

Peering around the room, everyone else continued as normal. Sighing, he suddenly felt terrible. He had just strolled through town in full view of the public, scar on display. Had anyone else noticed his uncanny resemblance to the popular child wizard? His looks, he could get away with, but the scar made is difficult. Hopefully he wasn't as well known here in Japan.

"H-Harry Potter?"

Yeah, right.

He nearly flinched at the soft voice, but was able to stop himself from doing so.

The little girl was now standing in front of him, gawking at him unabashedly, her raven hair tumbling down her back and well below her waist. Her pale cheeks were flushed with excitement, hazel eyes glimmering at him from under long lashes. She bent forward at the waist, staring into his eyes.

This was bad. He knew his Master would be furious if she were to find out.

"Uh," he replied, mouth dry.

"Harry Potter?" she repeated, this time without the slight stutter.

"Uh, no. Sorry."

She continued to stare, her face faltering slightly at his denial.

"But you look so much like him," she breathed. "You even have the scar!"

Harry looked around quickly to make sure no one was paying attention. Her last sentence had been a little louder than the others.

"Sorry, I'm afraid you are mistaken," he answered. She looked saddened and he felt terrible as her face dropped.

"Oh," she said softly.

"You aren't the first person to think so," he added cheerfully, taking control of the situation. He really should get back to his mission, his Master wouldn't be too happy if he wasted precious time on indulging some little girl.

But...

"Say, do you have a camera?"

-x-**X**-x-

Several photos and a piece of cake later, Harry was finally able to get away after the girls mother had pretty much dragged Hikari – which he had only found out was her name after the embarrassed parent had shouted it across the store – from his table, telling her that the nice man had better things to do than listen to her ramble on about what she and her friends got up too. While this was true, he hadn't found the encounter unpleasant. Quite the opposite, in fact, but he really did need to get moving.

His Master would no longer be merely furious at his actions, but apoplectic.

Deciding to follow his original plan, he headed for the bridge, surprised at the lack of foot traffic he encountered while crossing the river. Looking around, he quickly decided that this was an ideal place to bring someone to just relax, yet he only passed a handful of people by the time he reached the other side, something he found strange. For such a beautiful place, it had an abandoned feel to it.

The longer he continued, the more people he came across until the sidewalk was completely packed, the tall buildings casting long shadows as the sun reached its peak in the sky. Moving with the crowd, he felt himself approaching the possible location of another Servant, the one he had discovered during his brief scan. Harry was certain he was close to where he had felt the heroic spirit; however he couldn't feel a thing as he stopped at an intersection, the heavy traffic making it impossible to cross without a change of lights.

"They moved on, then," he muttered, disappointed but not surprised. It was his fault, taking as long as he did.

Harry carried on, letting the flow of the foot traffic take him once more. Since leaving the café, he took more interest in the people around him instead of the scenery, keeping a lookout for the telltale signs of being recognized. He couldn't afford to be careless with his identity in the presence of ordinary people, least he drag them into a war they had almost no hope of surviving. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself, if that happened.

Keeping his head slightly bowed and fringe down, he left the high rise buildings and crowded streets behind him. He travelled slowly, enjoying the slightly chilled weather more than the locals seemed too. He entered another suburban district before coming across a large park, a feeling of dread welling up in the pit of his stomach as he strolled through the mostly deserted grounds. Harry was beginning to suspect that there were many places like this, scattered around the city. Places where people felt uncomfortable being near so they avoided them at all costs, whether because of silly reasons or... something else.

Harry knew this was definitely in the 'something else' category.

Straying off the path, he knelt and placed a hand upon the scorched earth, fingers digging lightly into the dry soil. Several leafless trees creaked and groaned as a breeze rolled through, throwing dead leaves and loose foliage across the ground. Calming his breath, he felt with his magic the pain and suffering that took place here, and the incredible powers that caused such a thing to occur.

He knew at once that it involved the Holy Grail War in some way, though the specifics eluded him. It could have been a simple battle between powerful Servants or a purposeful sacrifice for greater power, something that happened all too often during the previous conflicts.

He couldn't help the sliver of anger that burned bright in his gut at the thought.

Or it could have been something else entirely, something even worse.

He decided then and there that he would think no longer on the subject. It wouldn't do him any good.

Harry continued to wander without much purpose for the rest of the day, stopping at random times to flare his senses in the hope of discovering another Servant, though nothing as wide reaching and as time consuming as the technique he'd used at the café. Unfortunately, he came across no one else, though he had gotten a strange feeling from a western-style church he had passed by, he didn't believe it was magical in nature.

At least, it hadn't felt magical.

Just odd.

As night quickly approached, he felt himself become heavier and heavier, the boost in mana from his Master being drained at a much more rapid pace as the sun set, the moon getting ready to take its rightful place in the clear sky. He paused briefly to admire the beautiful reflection upon the rivers calm surface as he left Shinto behind – oranges and reds and purples blending together to form an amazing sight – before continuing on his way. Taking an alternate route from the one he travelled in the morning, he moved through the eerily quiet, westernized streets like a wraith, his day clothes replaced within the blink of an eye by pitch black wizarding attire as night finally settled, his form blending into the newly encroached darkness.

Despite his overall failure, he was in a good mood. It had been a pleasant experience, taking in the sights of a culture totally different than what he had been brought up in, even with the strong western ties this city held. He hoped this wouldn't be the last time he got to do so, but didn't delude himself. Sightseeing didn't win wars, after all.

Passing through the foreigner's district, he weaved his way through the maze-like streets until he came upon the darkened silhouette of a school, its front gate strangely open. Inspecting the interior, he saw nothing but shadows beyond the walled perimeter. Turning to leave, he suddenly tensed, muscles pulled taut across his body as a flare of mana touched his senses.

"Ah," he muttered. "Got ya."

Wand appearing in hand, he gave it an elaborate twirl, a brief flash marking the arrival of an almost transparent cloak which wrapped itself around his body like a silk glove, his body and presence vanishing completely. Ignoring the sudden drain on his mana at his minor summoning and use of his invisibility cloak, he took off at a sprint, entering the school grounds. While he was a Caster class Servant, he was a Servant nonetheless, the speed of his run greater than that of an ordinary human. Within seconds, he had crossed the entrance courtyard of the school, his run taking him towards one of the buildings.

Muttering something in Latin he felt himself become weightless, the drain on his mana larger than he expected as he vaulted into the air like it was natural. Cloak and robe billowing in his wake, he soared through the air like a missile, another incantation cancelling the effect of his spell. Gravity taking hold, he descended rapidly towards the roof, landing hard but without a sound in a crouched position. Pausing, he heard the sound of clashing steel ring out, piercing the stillness of the night. It repeated itself several times in quick succession, a never ending song of battle.

Standing, Harry moved towards the edge of the building, hugging his cloak tight to his body as he felt the presence of two Servants. He became still as he looked out over the school grounds, eyes locked on the two combatants who were moving with incredible speed, sparks flying as their weapons clashed again and again in a deadly dance.

A tall, lithe man dressed in a blue armoured body suit charged, his short spiky hair and ponytail remaining practically motionless as he moved with amazing grace and agility. A crimson red lance struck out with such speed that it would have been nothing but a blur to a normal human being, to fast for their eyes to cope with. His opponent dodged, but only barely, bringing his weapons to the side to block the incoming follow-up attack; a jarring sweep that had him staggering slightly from the force of the blow. Twirling the lance with frightening ease, he continued his assault, keeping the shaft of his weapon tucked close to his body as he slashed diagonally from hip to shoulder.

The target was also a tall man with a similar build, his tan complexion a sharp contrast to his bright silver-white hair. Underneath a red long sleeve cloak, black armour hugged his physique tight, black leather pants and heavy, armoured boots continuing the trend. In each hand he wielded a short curved blade powerfully, their design identical aside from the colour, where they appeared to be complete opposites – yin and yang. He brought his swords together, grunting with effort as the lance struck.

"Lancer, then," Harry identified the blue Servant, staring as the two short swords shattered from the next attack, leaving the red-and-black clad Servant weapon less. "But you are...?"

Lancer's next attack came just as swiftly, a powerful thrust that Harry was positive would end the fight now that the other Servant had been unarmed and unbalanced. He was definitely surprised then, when the lance was battered aside in a shower of sparks, the previously shattered blades resting in the hands of their master once more, completely undamaged. Emerald eyes widened, Harry caught the low whistle he almost released in his surprise.

Lancer continued, unmoved by the fact that the enemy had re-armed himself in seconds. Harry assumed it wasn't the first time he had seen this ability at work.

The fight continued, with Lancer continually on offence while the other Servant did his best to just survive the onslaught, unable to counter-attack with his shorter weapons. Despite this, Harry could see Lancer starting to get frustrated with the way things were going, while his opponent remained as calm as he could under the circumstances. It was obvious why Lancer felt the way he did.

Like Harry, he had no idea what type of class he was fighting.

His first thought was Saber, being that he seemed to favour melee combat and wielded two short swords. Yet while he was exceptionally proficient with them, there was something off about the way he fought. He couldn't quite place what it was, but for some reason he just didn't seem to fit the Saber mould.

For obvious reasons, Caster and Lancer were ruled out.

Berserker was also quickly discarded. The man was way too calm and his fighting style didn't mesh at all with that of a Berserker class warrior. There was no rage, no anger and too much restraint on his part. He embodied everything that a Berserker was _not_.

Rider was the next to cross his mind. A possibility, yet like with Saber it just didn't seem right. Surely with the amount of trouble he was having, he'd have summoned his mount to battle to even the score a little, Harry reasoned. The class excelled at mounted combat and holding off in this situation was reckless, potentially fatal. Harry knew it was in a Servants best interest to hide their identity for as long as possible, but in situations like this...

Archer was briefly thought about, but the lack of bow was telling. Melee was not something an Archer would engage in unless left with no other option and while Lancer was agile enough to box an opponent in, Harry felt the unknown Servant could easily create space if needed.

"Could he be Assassin?" he mused, eyes narrowing.

While it was true that the Assassin class tended to avoid direct combat, it was entirely possible that he had tried and failed to finish off Lancer from the shadows, thus had been drawn out of hiding. Melee wasn't their greatest attribute, but they weren't completely useless at it either. They'd be able to hold their own in most situations, if only barely, until they could make their escape.

However, his Master had explained a few things after his summoning the day before, one of which was that the Assassin slot had been taken.

By him.

It was a result of his unnatural summoning. He was no Assassin, yet his Master had used the available slot to her benefit, bending the rules to her considerable will and might. It should be impossible for an Assassin to be summoned after such an act, yet this man fit the category better than the rest.

Harry sighed, looking on with interest as the fighting ceased and they began talking. He would think on it later, when he had more information. It was impossible for him to identify the man at this time, without seeing more of his abilities, of which were being expertly hidden.

The battle on hold for the moment, Harry tore his eyes away from the Servants for the first time since he come across them. It didn't take him long to find what he was looking for.

A Master.

She was pretty, exceedingly so. In spite of the darkness, her sharp attractive features caught his eye, his gaze devouring her petite but obvious curves. Black hair tumbled down her back in waves, two pig-tails held up by similarly coloured ribbons. Clad in a school uniform consisting of a long black skirt, stockings, a beige vest and a red long-sleeve coat, she struck an impressive figure for a school girl. Blue eyes sparkled from the little light available, piercing the night with their strong gaze.

_I always did have a thing for pretty Asian girls._

Harry couldn't help the slight smile that formed on his face at the thought of Cho Chang and their disastrous relationship, before frowning at the heavy, malicious aura of power that enveloped the area.

"Noble Phantasm," Harry breathed, eyes locking onto the crimson lance wielded by its master. The air was saturated with a demonic taint, the oppressive pressure pooling at the tip of Lancer's spear. It pulsed, a sticky feeling running the length of Harry's spine as the foul aura continued to build. Lancer was talking again but Harry didn't even ponder what may have been said, staring intently at the now vibrating lance.

The red-and-black clad Servant tensed in anticipation.

Harry held his breath.

Time stilled, a single second felt like several.

Then...

Harry blinked as the monstrous killing intent vanished, the oppressive aura leaving a strange taste lingering in the air. Lancer's head swivelled to the side in an instant, the unknown Servant followed suit, eyes widening in surprise. From his position on the roof, Harry was unable to catch a glimpse of anything but a flash of orange before whatever it was retreated the way it had come.

Words were exchanged before Lancer used his exceptional speed to give chase, disappearing between the main school building and the smaller one Harry called his perch. He watched as the young girl and Servant conversed briefly, before the silver-haired man followed the other Servant's lead, his Master following at a slower but impressive-for-a-human pace.

Harry frowned as he was left alone.

It was then that he noticed his plummeting mana levels, the use of his cloak all but draining the last of the power-boost his Master had bestowed upon him for the day. While he could last some amount of time outside the temple grounds without such a boost, it would be a day or two at the very most, if he were lucky. He had a feeling his Master would be angered if he were to waste his own reserves when he only had enough to last the duration the war and that was without engaging in any strenuous battles, which he was sure would be impossible to avoid completely.

No, she would not be pleased.

Not at all.

Any valuable information he could recover from following them did not compare to his continued existence, he reasoned after little thought. His Master would need him in the coming days, she had summoned him for a reason, after all... and personally, he didn't wish to simply drift off into nothingness, even after the war was over and especially not before its conclusion. Being reckless would only hasten his demise.

He wanted his existence to continue.

Removing his invisibility cloak, the material pooled at his feet before sinking into the stone as if it were never there. His body followed, fading from view as it drifted into that of the spirit realm.

He had much to think about in the coming days.

-x-**X**-x-

**AN: **Okay, you are probably wondering why I decided to do this crossover between Harry Potter and Fate/Stay Night. Honestly, the idea wouldn't leave me the hell alone. It started with a little one-shot piece I posted over at Dark Lord Potter and kind of spiralled from there after I got some pretty encouraging feedback.

All because a certain someone decided to show me the anime.

Anyway, I'm certain I will offend fans everywhere and I'm sorry in advance. I will not stop. Hopefully this won't be too traumatising for you.

In any case, I hope some of you enjoyed this.

Peace.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry loved to fly, this was no secret. Many a day had been wasted during his teenage years and beyond engaging in the simple, relaxing act of flying on his broom. It was just so natural, which was strange considering he was not an animal born to the skies. The adrenaline, the feeling of weightlessness and the air running through his hair were all reasons he took such joy in it. However, one thing he enjoyed far more than any of those was the view.

The world was completely different from above. Night or day, good weather or bad, something about seeing everything from above took his breath away. Everything unfolded before his very eyes, opening up a whole new world to explore.

As he was intangible, it's all that he had. No adrenaline to course through his veins, no feeling the soft caress of wind upon his features and ruffling his already messy locks. The sensation of weightlessness was more hollow – like he barely existed and was in no way an exhilarating feeling. But the view... it was magnificent.

The large forest that surrounded this portion of town glowed under the gentle rays of the moon, giving it an ethereal look as the temperature plummeted with each passing hour. Dew gathered on the upper canopy, reflecting the soft moonlight and enhancing its mystic even further. Harry could tell, as he descended towards the temple staircase to avoid the ever present – and incredibly annoying in his opinion – anti-spirit barrier, that the morning would bring a lingering mist that would complete the picture perfectly.

He couldn't help but compare it to the Forbidden Forest from his memories.

Landing lightly atop the traditional Japanese archway that stood a silent vigil at the entrance to the holy grounds, he rematerialized slowly after assuring he was not being watched or in sight of anyone. The previous drain on his mana had slowed to but a trickle when he had entered his spirit form and vanished completely as he passed into the temple grounds, a sigh of contentment leaving his lips as if an invisible weight had been lifted from them. The extra mana had felt amazing at first – like being under the influence of a drug – and now he knew he was going to suffer withdrawals. Despite his almost full capacity of mana, he knew he would be feeling the after affects of the untraditional boost in energy for a short while yet.

For some reason, that left him irritated and deeply troubled. He wasn't wholly comfortable with that.

In a way, he felt caged by his limitations and reliance on that power.

A very pretty cage it was, no doubt, but a cage nonetheless.

Harry _hated_ feeling trapped.

A puff of mist escaped his lips as he ignored the slight headache creeping up on him, fogging his glasses slightly as he redirected his focus upon the night's events.

The pretty girl and the unknown Servant were partners, yet Lancer had been alone as far as Harry could tell. Though unorthodox to engage in combat without ones Master present to provide support, it did happen on occasion. Sometimes, a Servant worked better alone, enabling them to throw themselves wholeheartedly into conflict without worrying about their only link to this world being taken out in the resulting crossfire.

A popular tactic was to avoid Servants all together and solely focus on the various Masters. They put up less of a struggle and were much easier to take out. Harry himself disliked this tactic, yet he didn't discredit the effectiveness of such a method. It was cold, yet an intelligent way to go about winning the war. It minimized the risk of defeat and greatly enhanced chance of victory, something anyone would agree was perfect.

Perfect, that is, if you could come to terms with killing another human being.

Most of the time, this was not an issue. From what he had been told by his Master and what knowledge the Holy Grail had bestowed upon him, a Magus learned early on what was required of them. They dehumanized themselves and others like them, to make their job easier, whatever it may be. They held no compassion for enemies, even if that enemy happened to be another person. And when these people stood in the way of their dreams as was the case with the grail war, Harry understood there really was no hope for compromise.

Humans were greedy. What were a few deaths compared to their heart's desire?

People killed for a lot less on a daily basis, yet even the most noble of souls would be tempted by the offer. Harry himself had felt thrilled by the prospect of being granted one wish. That was, until he found out where exactly he came from. Or _didn't come from_ was probably more accurate. Then there was the fact he couldn't have his wish granted regardless, a result of the many rules his Master had bent to bring him into the world.

That had put a massive dampener on things.

Truthfully, Harry had no reason to compete, other than the will of his Master.

It made him feel empty.

Without purpose.

Harry remembered feeling like this once before, a very long time ago.

The defeat of Lord Voldemort had been his greatest achievement and the best day of his life. Not only had he stopped the most powerful dark wizard of the age – thus saving countless lives – he had avenged the death of his parents. He had punished the monster responsible for destroying his life, freeing himself in the process. No longer did he have to fear death swooping down from the rafters in the form of a pale, red-eyed snake like being.

Yet...

That day he had lost something.

He never told anyone this for they would never understand. But when Voldemort was finally vanquished and the dust settled, Harry felt he had lost an important part of himself, one that he would never be able to replace. Tom Riddle had been such a part of Harry Potter, even before he knew of the wizarding world, that when he was truly gone...

He felt empty.

Without purpose.

He despised this feeling, more than anything else.

"I hope you aren't always this absentminded," a voice sounded from his left, startling the young wizard. "What is the point of a Servant who can't even react in time to defend themselves?"

Turning his head, he confirmed his rapidly growing fears when he gazed upon the slender figure of his Master. He felt like swearing but refrained from doing so, noting with irritation that she was no more than five feet away and standing upon the archway with him. It was beyond careless and he was furious at himself, but outwardly remained calm and poised.

"Were you thinking about your _past_ again? Silly boy," she chided mockingly.

"Master," he replied after a short pause, ignoring her words. "How are you this evening?"

Silence.

Harry didn't press any further, waiting for her reply. A full minute passed, then another and another. Needless to say, he was incredibly nervous and apprehensive when she finally decided to speak again.

"You did not seek me out when you returned," she commented softly. "Did you fail in your mission?"

Though she didn't sound it, Harry knew instinctively that she was annoyed at him for not reporting in. Honestly, he had been too absorbed in his own thoughts and theories of the night's events that it had completely slipped his mind that his Master might want to know what happened.

He felt foolish.

"Not at all," Harry smiled slightly. "I learned a great deal, I feel."

For a moment, Harry was sure he had surprised her with his revelation as her head quirked to the side, hidden eyes studying him intently.

"That is... good."

Hearing the hesitance in her normally blank voice threw him for a second. It was then that Harry realised that she probably expected him to come back empty handed or at the very most with little information to speak of.

He wasn't sure what to think of that.

"Come, Servant."

She motioned with her hand, signalling him to follow. Her form distorted, slowly becoming transparent before fading from view completely. Harry felt her presence move towards the temple and followed her example, once more taking on his spirit form and following quickly. They passed over the courtyard within seconds and fazed through the temple wall to its interior. Passing through a narrow hallway, they continued through a second much thinner wall and rematerialized in the same room he had spent the morning gathering his thoughts after finding out the truth about his past.

"Tell me everything," she commanded.

He began talking, leaving out a great many things, only touching upon the relevant issues. He explained at length about his attempted scan of the city and his theories about the two he had touched upon with his magic, confessing that he had discovered the identity of the Servant.

"It was Lancer."

"Are you certain?" she questioned, head tilted.

Harry nodded and pulled out his wand, giving it a soft wave. Four of the seven books on the nearby desk lifted from the surface and floated towards an old bookcase, neatly arranging themselves in chronological order. The remaining three were subjected to a series of pokes and prods from the young wizard.

"It wasn't until later that I found out who he was. At the time, I wasn't paying much attention but now that I think about it, they felt exactly the same."

A short incantation later, the three books folded in on themselves rapidly, their forms becoming humanoid in shape. It wasn't long before Caster was greeted by the sight of three miniatures; all of them an incredibly life-like replica of the people Harry encountered on the school grounds, right down to their assorted clothes and weaponry. Caster was silently impressed at the detail shown.

"I came across these three on my way back as I passed the nearby school," he answered her unspoken question, gesturing at the figures. "The one in blue and wielding the wicked looking spear is Lancer. Unfortunately, I was unable to determine the class of the other Servant but the girl appeared to be his Master."

Tapping them on the head with his wand, they sprung to life, the two tiny Servants clashing in a perfect replay of the nights fight. Harry watched silently as Caster approached the desk, standing beside him as she looked on with keen eyes, no doubt analyzing the fight.

"This is exactly how it happened?" she asked, following their movements.

"Mhm," Harry hummed. "The other Servant doesn't show much of his abilities, nothing that really pointed to what his class was. He had an interesting talent, though. It looks like he can form swords with but a thought."

Caster watched as the tiny Servant replicated the feat after his swords were shattered by a vicious blow, though through transfiguration on Harry's part.

"It sounds like projection," Caster said softly. "But then that would mean this Servant was – _is_ – a magus..."

Harry frowned.

_Just who the hell is this guy?_

"Then again, it could just be that his weapons have a unique ability. Enchanted blades or..."

"Or what?" Harry prompted as she trailed off abruptly, taking his eyes off the battling figures. Harry noticed her tense shoulders instantly and felt his stomach drop, an uneasy feeling settling in his gut. Her gaze remained locked on the animated miniatures.

"Master?"

"Cease this foolishness immediately,"

"What?" he asked startled; his expression one of utter confusion. He glanced back at his creations. "I don't und-"

Harry nearly choked on his tongue. Fumbling with his wand, he coughed awkwardly as the tiny figure of the female Master continued to peel clothes from her body, revealing more and more skin with each passing second. Her red coat, tanned vest and white shirt were pooled at her bare feet, her shoes likely hidden underneath. She was in the process of shaking her tiny hips in a tantalizing manner to remove her school dress when Harry tapped his wand on her head, her movements ceasing immediately.

An uncomfortable moment passed, the two mini-Servants continuing their battle uninterrupted.

"Uh," Harry grunted with an embarrassed look on his face before clearing his throat, mouth uncomfortably dry. "That didn't actually happen."

Silence.

"Um..." he continued lamely. "That wasn't intentional, I swear."

Waving his wand quickly to undo his transfiguration, he sighed as three ordinary books replaced the replicas on the small desk, their original forms restored. Rubbing his neck awkwardly, he sighed again, hand dropping to his side as he pocketed his wand with the other.

"...is that all, Master?"

All he received was a nod in return.

Harry felt that he couldn't leave fast enough.

-x-**X**-x- Day Two -x-**X**-x-

For Harry, the rest of the evening passed without grandeur. He spent his time roaming the temple grounds, getting a feel for the place he would be calling home for the foreseeable future.

It was a large place, which was unsurprising for a place of worship.

The walls were a soft cream on the outside and small windows appeared every few meters, broken into sections by trim, rustic red support beams. The blue-tiled roof sloped at sharp angles, overhanging the walls by a great deal, requiring several powerful wooden posts to keep aloft, creating a barrier from the elements when needed. The ground underneath was fitted with wooden slats closest to the building which changed to the thick concrete slabs of the courtyard the further away you moved from the building. Several small gardens were placed here and there, a thin stream travelling from within the surrounding forest and looping around the right side of the main building. A tiny red bridge crossed the stream towards its end, where it opened up to moderately sized pond surrounded by the main building on its left and a small outhouse on the right, giving it a hidden and looked-after feel.

Inside was no less impressive.

Polished, well-kept wooden floors were the common theme, as were hallways that went on and on, crisscrossing frequently like some sort of crazy maze. There was no shortage of accommodations, paper-thin sliding doors appearing often as he travelled. Where window and door did not take residence, various works of art and all manner of valuable antiquity filled the void, adorning the walls proudly. Aside the living quarters, common rooms were scattered throughout the building, as were restrooms and laundries.

And in the centre was their place of prayer where thick, powerfully built doors were locked with key and chain for the night, barring all from entrance at such an inappropriate hour.

All in all, it was quite a sight.

Yet something felt different from the day before.

Ryuudou Temple was a heavily spiritual place for obvious reasons. So much so, that when Harry had been summoned two days previous, he had immediately felt the hidden power saturating the air. It was a place where great magic could be performed if one knew how to use such energy for their benefit, like his Master.

But now...

The air felt heavy, the energy practically making his skin tingle slightly.

It was like it had been doubled in volume, perhaps even more than that.

He honestly didn't know what to make of it.

As early morning sunlight filtered through the trees, Harry watched silently from the foliage shadow as the residents began their daily routine. The monks tended to the gardens with patience and care – yet they looked strangely lethargic to him, like their sleep had been troubled. The tranquil atmosphere was enhanced by all manner of birdsong and the thick mist that had rolled in during the night, as Harry knew it would.

The fresh, dewy air and aura of calm was something he enjoyed immensely. Folding his arms behind his back, he sighed happily as he closed his eyes, relaxing completely. A soft breeze drifted through, the hem of his wizarding robe brushing the ground lightly as he took pleasure in the simple act of resting.

"If you don't mind me asking, Kuzuki-sensei," a young, male voice began. "What exactly do you need help with?"

Harry opened a single eye in curiosity.

The person who spoke was a young man of slight build, dressed in ordinary, unremarkable street clothes. He was average in height, a pair of glasses very similar to Harry's own resting upon the bridge of his nose, enclosing dark blue eyes. Also like Harry, he had short black hair, though of a lighter shade. If Harry had to guess, he'd say he was still at school, a couple years away from graduation.

His companion whose response he missed was much larger in comparison, an entire head taller with a strong jaw and sporting a powerful physique; broad shoulders and a wide back telling Harry the man was very capable, physically. He had short, black hair like his younger associate and angular glasses framing a dark, steely gaze; enhanced by a semi-scowling, yet ruggedly handsome visage. Dressed in a simple, well-made forest green suit with matching tie and white undershirt, he struck an impressive figure.

The manner in which he moved caught Harry's attention, his instincts telling him that there was something definitely off about this man. He was not a magus, nor was he Servant, but he was certainly not what one would call normal – despite looking and being perfectly human.

No.

Harry could tell something was off, despite the man's apparent expertise at hiding it.

He didn't like him.

Not at all.

Especially when the man returned his gaze, penetrating the shadow obscuring his position like it wasn't even there. Harry remained as he was, lazily returning the gesture with one eye as the well dressed man continued to stare, a harsh frown forming on his face. It wasn't much different from the half-scowl he had been maintaining beforehand. A narrowing of eyes, a tightening of lips the only change.

"What is it, Kuzuki-sensei?" the younger one asked, following his lead and trying to pinpoint what he was looking at. "Can you see something?"

The man – Kuzuki-sensei – turned and continued on his way before answering.

"It was nothing."

Harry dismissed them as they went about their business, eye closing. Focusing on his slow, rhythmic breathing, he declared to himself that he'd think more on this Kuzuki-sensei later. As of now, he felt like doing absolutely nothing. Even if he did not require sleep or rest, it was nice to indulge in such things. Harry always had been and always would be a fan of the simple things in life.

Small pleasures kept a man sane, after all.

The next few hours were spent in this fashion, Harry's still form remaining hidden as the sun continued to climb towards its apex, the sky completely void of clouds. Despite this fact, it was still relatively chilly, small puffs of mist escaping his parted lips. Life continued on all around him, without a care for the impending conflict. The day was approaching its eleventh hour when he was finally disturbed, a sharp pain shooting through his right arm.

Gasping in surprise, eyes shot open in an instant.

His presence was required.

Reverting to his spirit form, he quickly shot across the grounds and through several walls effortlessly, coming to stop inside a small isolated room. It was dark, the only source of light coming from the strange, purple ball of energy that hovered above the palms of his Master. The size of a small basketball, it rotated slowly; a circle of glowing, violet runes floating around it in a ring. Harry thought he caught a hint of something moving within but could not tell from his angle, his position reducing whatever it was to a mere blob.

It was like viewing something through smudged glass.

"What is that?" he asked, head materializing first before the rest of his body followed. Caster clapped, the energy dissipating, plunging them in total darkness.

"Nothing you should concern yourself with," she answered, the sound of rustling fabric filling his ears. He was about to comment when a small, delicate hand cupped his cheek, rendering him speechless. Harry felt his throat constrict as she caressed his face with her thumb softly, breath caught painfully in his chest. Several seconds passed before he gathered himself, annoyed at his ridiculous response.

"Uh, not that I mind," he began, body tense. "But what are you doing?"

"What does it feel like?" she purred, her other hand cupping the other side of his face. He swallowed thickly before replying, somewhat incredulously.

"It feels like you're about to kiss m-"

Harry grunted in shock before he could finish, mind momentarily scrambled as large amounts of mana surged into his body. Panting loudly, his eyes closed in bliss as his energy-level doubled. He wasn't sure why, but the sensations he experienced the day before were no where near as intense as what he was currently going through, his entire body alight with an indescribable feeling. A corner of his mind was worried but it was largely ignored for the time being, the intoxicating feel of his Master's mana overpowering reason.

"Wh-What are you..." he murmured. "Why are you...?"

"I was... impressed with your work yesterday," she answered honestly, choosing her words carefully. "If you should feel the need to leave the grounds at any time, I have given you the means to do so as a... reward."

"Reward?" he echoed, eyes seeking out his Master's form in the encompassing darkness.

"Indeed. However, I'd rather you not waste the energy I've granted you on something trivial." she added. "I would be most... disappointed if that were the case."

He understood then that despite her words, it was less of a reward and more of a backup plan, of sorts, in the event that his leaving the temple grounds would benefit her more than him remaining bound there.

"I see," he replied. "Then I thank you for this generous gift."

Inwardly Harry frowned, feelings of elation dimming rapidly.

On top of being a fictional being and unable to claim the ultimate prize of this war – a wish granted by the Holy Grail itself – he could not even leave this place without help, like some sort of hopeless child.

He felt worthless, relying on his Master's power. Now that he thought about it, it wasn't just that that was bothering him. No, it was... he felt...

He was becoming _addicted_ to it.

His mind blanked abruptly at the thought, knowing it to be true. While it was only the second time Caster had supplied him with mana, he could tell he was fast becoming ensnared by the power she granted him. When he had returned from his wandering the day before, he had felt the after effects, had felt wary of what they might entail. Though he had come to terms that he was but a Servant, bound to his Master through three unbreakable Command Spells, he had no intention of becoming a mindless tool that she could throw around without any resistance on his part, would not become reduced to some sort of magic _junkie_ who begged for a fix.

He would follow her lead, as she had given him life.

But he would not go against what he believed in willingly, regardless of his origins.

No, she would have to force him with everything she had.

_Does she know this?_

Unconsciously, he clenched his fists.

_Was this her true purpose all along? _

His eyes narrowed.

_To weaken my resolve?_

He felt sick.

_I am a god damn fool._

"What are you thinking, my Servant?" her voice interrupted his thoughts. Caster's hands drifted down to his shoulders, kneading the tense muscles in such a wondrous way he nearly groaned at the feeling. "You are so tense."

_Or maybe... I am mistaken._

Harry found it hard to think clearly as her hands continued their ministrations.

_I just don't... know..._

Her hands stopped abruptly, her own body becoming tense. Blinking through the darkness, Harry reoriented himself and discovered what had set his Master on edge after a bit of concentration.

A Servant had just entered the grounds.

Yet it was the middle of the day.

"How strange," Caster murmured softly. "Go out there, will you?"

"Are they here to fight?" he questioned, wand appearing in hand.

"I don't believe they would be so foolish as to attack, but be prepared for anything."

"Yes, Master."

-x-**X**-x-

This was not what he had been expecting when confronting the other Servant.

He hadn't expected her to be so god damn...

"Hello miss," Harry said cheerfully, gaining the attention of his target. "Would you like a tour of the temple?"

She was beautiful, ridiculously so. She was tall for a woman – having about an inch on Harry – with extremely long, slender legs, a pair of jeans hugging them and a shapely bottom tight. Her large bust that stretched her cotton sweater tempted his eyes, yet what really caught his attention was her silky, violet coloured hair that ran down the smooth expanse of her neck, the gorgeous strands almost but not quite touching her ankles. She was pale but not to the point of looking unhealthy, a very attractive face hidden behind a pair of large, stylish sunglasses.

If he had met her in a club, he'd have asked if she wanted to dance.

As she faced him, he gave his most charming smile, holding out a leather-clad hand. No longer in his wizarding attire, he wore a simple black suit with matching tie and black leather gloves, a white long sleeve undershirt and black dress shoes finishing the assemble. He looked quite smart, if he didn't say so himself, his coat open and giving him a casual look.

She stared at his outstretched hand for a few moments before grasping it in a powerful grip, smiling a dangerous yet alluring smile. Harry's nose twitched slightly, a metallic smell filling his nostrils.

"And which Servant are you, hm?" she asked in a husky voice, affectively distracting him and letting go of his hand. "Oh my, would you be Caster?"

Harry smiled slightly. She wasn't half-wrong.

"I suppose," he lamented with exaggeration. "You're quite sharp."

Among other things.

They stood silently for a few moments and Harry got the impression that she was a quiet girl, who only spoke when necessary. That was nice, as he tended to avoid chatty girls.

"Is your offer still open?" she questioned softly. Harry liked her voice, he decided quickly.

"Of course," he replied immediately, gesturing for her to follow.

He probably should have forced her to leave, though he wasn't sure how this could be accomplished. While it wasn't _busy_ per se, there were enough people around to make using force way too troublesome. Outsiders were to be eliminated if they discovered magic and they were very much included in that category. Harry would rather not have innocent, unneeded slaughter hanging over his head.

He was correct in his assumption that she was a quiet girl, letting Harry do most of the talking. He led the way, taking her various places that held no importance to his Master and the Holy Grail War whatsoever.

Or so he believed, in any case.

His Master surely had secrets. Perhaps the koi in that pond were a super-secret key ingredient for some high-level magic? He might ruin all her plans if he escorted the attractive woman over there.

Harry chuckled, the purple haired Servant tilting her head as if to inquire about his sudden laughter.

"Do you like fish?" he asked.

"...Fish?" she asked slowly, facing him with a perplexed look. Harry continued walking, guiding her towards a certain pond.

"Yeah," he replied, stepping onto the small red bridge. "Those."

Pointing down below, she followed his finger as she came to a halt next to him. Several large koi of varying size and colour were swimming, ignorant of their new audience.

"...I know what a fish is." she said quietly. "Your question was just... strange."

"Yeah, I suppose."

"You are also very strange. You aren't what I expected."

An hour passed, then another. Harry felt like he was being studied like some sort of strange, weird-looking insect. He couldn't tell with her large sunglasses, but he was fairly certain that she hadn't taken her eyes off him in awhile. It was to be expected, he supposed, she was probably looking for weaknesses; perhaps even an opening for her to strike, even if it was the middle of the day.

She was tense, if only slightly. He had a good idea why.

He had been leaving her openings all day.

And this one, he was positive, she could not ignore.

Harry came to a stop at the edge of the forest, turning towards his companion. They were directly behind the main building, the lush forest continuing for miles into the mountains while the temple stood between them and the only safe escape for a spirit such as themselves; the front staircase. Completely alone and isolated, it was the perfect opportunity.

He was already leaning back as a very long, very lethal looking spike was slashed at his face with incredible speed. Missing only by a hair, Harry – wand appearing within the blink of an eye – brought his hand up in a slashing motion, a light blue bubble of energy surrounding him as a second, identical spike was driven towards his chest. A shower of a sparks and a loud, screeching sound caused several birds to take flight in fright.

Taking a step back, he ducked to avoid a straight right punch that probably would have hurt like hell, bringing his wand up like a sword to strike at her unprotected torso. He missed – the tall, sensual form of his enemy flinging herself away with amazing agility, cart wheeling away before hurling her vicious looking weapons at his head. Twirling his wand in a semi-circle, an invisible force knocked them off course, imbedding them to the hilt in the soft earth either side of him.

He took a moment to study the weapons, each hilt covered with a nasty looking hand guard covered in nail-like spikes, the ends of which were connected to chains...

Reacting with speed, he slashed his wand violently, the enclosing metal sheared by the powerful cutting curses he unleashed. A quiet incantation had the broken chains springing to life, transformed into two large, poisonous snakes that hissed angrily at the approaching Servant. She paused, watching on as the two retiles curled around her weapons protectively, keeping her from reclaiming them.

With the lapse in battle, Harry gave his opponent a quick inspection.

Her casual clothes were gone, replaced by something else entirely. She wore a tight black and purple strapless dress that hugged her body like a second skin, struggling to contain her large breasts and exposing the creamy unblemished skin of her shoulders and thighs. Similarly coloured covers adorned her slender arms, thick purple bracers encircling her wrists. The trend continued; her legs clad in thigh-high tights that trailed off into sturdy boots. Around her neck was a purple collar, an identically coloured blindfold covering her eyes in an eerie fashion. Upon her forehead was a bright red mark – a strange tattoo that meant nothing to Harry.

She was stunning.

He couldn't help the slight arousal he felt, giving her a pointed smirk.

"You're a little minx, aren't you?"

She remained silent, a small little smile the only answer he received.

"Well then," he began, clothes morphing into a simple black robe. "It would be rude to disappoint such a pretty woman, wouldn't it?"

A red beam of light rocketed out of his wand, the female Servant reacting instantly. Dodging to the left, she sprung forward like a coiled spring, crossing the distance between them without much effort. Flicking his wand in rapid succession, several bolts of silver energy shot towards her with speed. Spinning through the air, she twisted her limbs around his attack, her right boot lancing towards his head. Blocking her powerful strike with a hastily conjured sheet of steel, he watched as she leapt away and towards her weapons. Sweeping the irate snakes away with her abnormally long hair, she regained her spike-like daggers and charged, new chains materializing at their hilts.

Twirling on the spot, he vanished with a crack, her attack passing through thin air. Overextended, she back peddled rapidly as three bolts of energy came at her towards her right side. The first two missed, but the third impacted against her shoulder. She stumbled slightly but quickly regained her balance.

"Hm," Harry hummed in annoyance. "Just my luck, you are resistant to magic. How troublesome."

Firing several spells at the advancing woman, he hissed in an eerie, hollow sounding voice. The two transfigured snakes, having recovered from being swept aside, lunged at the agile Servant with unnatural ability. Swerving around the first, she sliced the second cleanly in two, blood spraying her face as she continued without fault. Thrusting both her weapons at his face, they encountered a familiar blue bubble, her daggers clanging against the magic shield roughly. It wavered, before collapsing, the woman using her strength to force her way through.

Swinging his wand wildly, he ducked, feeling the twin blades pass above his head. The woman grunted as his wand came in contact with her abdomen, the wooden shaft giving a sharp pulse in his grip as it repelled her with incredible force. Flung through the air, she managed to turn and find purchase on the trunk of a tree, the wood cracking beneath her feet from the impact. The tree groaned in protest but remained standing.

Harry stared as the woman dropped to the ground, absentmindedly skewering the remaining snake as it attempted to sneak up from behind. It thrashed wildly before she beheaded it, the body reduced to twitching.

He watched motionless, waiting for her to attack, but was surprised when she lowered her weapons.

"Thank you for your hospitality."

He was about to speak when she launched herself into the air, above his head and onto the roof of the temple. Glancing back down at him, she gave an impish smile and licked the snake blood from one of her blades before dashing across the roof and away from him. Entering spirit form, he followed, fearing she was going for his Master. It proved unfounded as she too entered spirit form and made a beeline for the front gate, vanishing from his senses as she left the temple grounds.

Returning to his physical form, he stared at the front gate from his position on the roof as if bewildered.

_That was... rather abrupt._

Glancing around, he enjoyed the view for a few moments before deciding he better report to his Master before he was seen standing on top of the temple like some sort of heathen. Phasing out of view, he couldn't help but wonder not what that Servant's class had been, but what her true name was.

He'd be sure to ask.

Next time.

-x-**X**-x-

**AN: **I forgot to mention but this story has not been beta-read. Well, not in the traditional sense. Warlocke over on DLP does his best in showing me the error of my ways, but a few things might slip through. Sorry about that.

Hope you enjoyed this. Thanks for the reviews.


	3. Chapter 3

Matou Shinji was many things.

"Rider," he barked irritably. "What took you so long?"

He was popular – in fact, he was one of the most popular students attending Homurabara Gakuen and as a consequence, one of the most envied.

"I was delayed, Master."

He was believed handsome by many, which was not untrue. His sharp, smooth face and wavy blue hair were subject to a plethora of fantasies of the many girls who attended his school and beyond.

"Delayed?" he questioned sharply. "You really are useless aren't you?"

He was rich, his extensive family line filled to the brim with successful faces within the magical community of the past.

"Indeed," Rider commented softly, her voice blank. "I engaged in combat with another Servant."

Some might consider him the perfect catch with such attributes. However, he was much less desirable than he sounded.

"What?" he asked in surprise. "In the middle of the day?"

He was an impatient boy and could be incredibly rude on occasion.

"Yes. Despite the hour, I felt it was the opportune moment to strike."

He was cruel. He cared little for the troubles of others.

"I thought I told you to scout," he whispered dangerously. "Not start fights!"

He was violent, lashing out at others for the simplest of matters.

"I am sorry, Master."

He was psychotic.

Shinji grunted in annoyance, setting his cup of tea and saucer upon the surface of a well-polished, mahogany coffee table. Uncrossing his legs, he stood swiftly from the cream Victorian era-style couch, wandering towards the large, blood red drapes that blocked all light from encroaching upon the well decorated lounge. Flinging them aside, the room was bathed in the orange glow of the setting sun, revealing the tall figure of his Servant who remained motionless in the corner like an obedient maid.

Long, luscious hair the colour of lavenders fell in waves, stopping only inches from the carpeted floor. Still clad in her black and purple battle attire, she gazed at her Master as though no blindfold existed upon her angelic face.

Shinji crossed his arms, his body casting a long shadow across the floor, an unpleasant look twisting his features as he gazed out the window with disinterest. It was an amazing view, the surrounding suburb alight with so many bright colours that an artist would have difficulty capturing them all upon his canvas. He was unmoved by the sight, having seen it too many times to care. "So, did you find out anything useful, at least?"

Rider tilted her head slightly, the warm rays pleasant against her smooth skin. "There are two Servant's occupying Ryuudou Temple."

Shinji started, turning towards his Servant quickly and replied nervously. "Wh-What? Are you sure?"

"I am. I believe they and their Master's are working together. It is not unheard of to form an alliance in this war."

Shinji nodded slowly, turning back towards the window. Thinking about it, he found he liked the idea of an alliance, if only temporary. It would be the perfect way to ensure a greater level of safety and watch one of his enemies at the same time, up close and personal. And when he didn't have anymore use for them, he could dispose of them using the element of surprise to either attack them directly or position them as a shield. They would never see it coming.

Foolishly, he didn't bother thinking about the possibility of being attacked in return. Clearly, rational thought wasn't his strongest point.

"Continue."

"I was only able to identify the class of one of them as he is the only one that responded to my presence," she explained. "He was of the Caster class, Master."

"So its Caster's doing after all," Shinji remarked. "He is the one gathering all that energy you felt?"

The reason for the mission in the first place had been the numerous 'gas leaks' that had been plaguing the city in recent days which resulted in the hospitalization of dozens of people. In reality, they were not gas leaks as the authorities had claimed – the excuse being used as they truly had no idea what the cause was – but the result of a powerful being leeching soul energy for mana conversion. Rider happened to be knowledgeable of such magic and it hadn't taken her long to figure out what was really happening. She had followed the trail of energy to Ryuudou Temple where it was being stockpiled for future use, or so she believed.

It was high level magic, especially on such a large scale. From the start, there had been very few potential culprits. She had felt pleased that her initial suspect had been present at the temple. Who else but Caster could cast such advanced magic?

Yet...

"I... am unsure." her voice was hesitant, the first time he had ever heard her sound this way. "That is where the energy is going, but... he was different than what I expected."

"Different?" Shinji asked, bewildered.

Rider struggled to find the right words.

"The whole time I was with him... the whole time we fought, he had no malicious intent. He did not strike me as the type to prey on humans in such a fashion."

"And how would you know that?" he asked haughtily, waving his arm dramatically. "How could you know what he is feeling, hm? What he is capable of?"

"As spirits, our intent and emotions manifest themselves differently from what you perceive in ordinary people." she replied coolly, choosing to answer his first question only. His countenance became defensive at her tone. "In battle, this is taken further. If he wished to kill me, my instincts would have alerted me. Even you would be able to feel his intent to kill, if it was focused on you."

"What do you mean, even _I_ would feel it?" he growled angrily, taking offence. He faced her once more, eyes narrowed. "What did you mean by that?"

"Nothing at all, Master."

He continued to glare at the voluptuous woman, doubting her sincerity. He could never tell if the woman was mocking him or not, something that infuriated him beyond belief. He was calmed by the fact that he held her in the palm of his hand, or perhaps more accurately, her will within the pages of a certain book. Unlike a typical Master, he was no Magus. He had no magic to speak of and no Command Spells marred his skin.

Then how was he able to summon a Servant if he had absolutely no magic?

The answer was he _didn't_.

Yet a Master he remained, the vital Command Spells contained instead within the pages of a very special grimoire created and given to him by his knowledgeable grandfather. The Book of False Attendant acted like a provisionary Command Spell, allowing Shinji control of this Servant despite his magic-less nature.

A sudden thought struck Shinji, his anger no longer aimed at his Servant but at someone else.

"Rider, have you seen Sakura?" he snapped.

"I have not."

He frowned harshly.

He had a very good idea where she was.

"Emiya," he muttered sourly.

"Emiya?" Rider questioned.

Shinji sighed, hands coming down to rest on his hips.

Shirou Emiya was a tricky subject for him. He was perhaps Shinji's only true friend from childhood, who wasn't worried about such things as popularity or how much money he had like the various others that had come and gone over the years. Genuine to the core, he was a good friend. If there was anything he needed help with, Shirou would be there in a heartbeat to lend a hand – even at the cost of personal loss. It was sickening, Shinji thought, yet the Matou couldn't deny that he thought highly of the young, ginger-haired man.

Yet...

At the same time, he couldn't stand him. The way he acted went against everything Shinji himself believed in; in the way he lived and conducted his own life. Watching Shirou act so selflessly made him feel... bad with the way he sometimes acted. It wasn't something that happened very often. Almost never. He had done some pretty terrible things, most of which would never reach the ears of anyone beyond the Matou family, actions that should have but did not elicit any such feelings of regret or remorse.

Even still, Shirou still managed to make him feel this way without even trying.

Yes, his relationship with Emiya Shirou was difficult.

It didn't help that Sakura – Shinji's own _sister_ – complicated things even further.

That was something Shinji didn't want to think about any longer than he had too.

"How's your little pet project at school coming?" he asked, ignoring his Servant's curiosity.

"It is going well, Master. It should not be long now."

He hummed, turning from the window and returned to his seat. Leaning back against the rest, he sipped at his cooling tea. What Shinji was about to unleash on his school mates in the coming days would be considered inhuman by most people, a disgusting disregard of human life. He wasn't fazed.

"Will the students be enough for you, Rider? I know how greedy you can be."

"They will be sufficient, Master."

"That's good."

Shinji liked good news.

-x-**X**-x- Day Three -x-**X**-x-

Harry stared at the strange thread, confusion evident on his face.

"What are you doing?"

Caster ignored him and continued her actions, hands waving in seemingly random patterns. A thin, almost invisible length of thread spun through the air, forming various shapes before untangling itself and repeating the process. Harry watched closely, unable to comprehend his Master's actions. The room they occupied was what Harry had come to claim as his own, even though he spent very little time there. However, it was the most familiar room to him in the entire complex, having been where his Master had brought him after his summoning and where he discovered his origins.

And where his little transfiguration mishap had taken place.

Harry quickly cleared his mind. It wasn't the time to think about stripping female miniatures.

Opening his mouth to repeat his question, he was cut off by her voice.

"Did that Servant reveal its class to you?"

Pausing, he closed his mouth. Crossing his arms, he leant back against the wall as he thought about the previous day's confrontation.

To say he wasn't constantly thinking about the female Servant would be a lie. As he didn't have much to do in the first place, the majority of his time since their little fight was spent contemplating the lavender-haired heroic spirit. He had been impressed no doubt about it, by her fighting ability and by her looks both. While he knew she hadn't gone all out, he could tell she was an incredibly skilled opponent. He couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't melee-orientated and her most potent skills lay elsewhere, yet had shown no hesitance to engage him in that manner.

And all without revealing her class-type.

He had intended to inform his Master of the proceedings immediately after, yet had been barred entrance from her room. Harry didn't know why this was the case, but didn't dwell on it overly long. So he had waited patiently, going about his business of wandering the grounds aimlessly to pass the time. As expected, she sought him out when she was ready.

"No," he answered. "Like that other Servant, she had no telling signs. Myself, on the other hand..." he paused, frowning. "I'm all too easy to figure out. Who else _could_ I be?"

Caster hummed, hands still in motion. The thread continued tracing patterns in the air, uncoiling itself and repeating the motion. "That matters not. The fact that she believes you to be Caster is beneficial. They will not be expecting two of us."

Harry nodded. "I guess you're right."

"Of course I am," she replied sharply. "Do you not have faith in your Master?"

Harry looked away, wincing. It wasn't that he didn't trust her, not really. It was just...

"Why does it feel so... cramped here?" he questioned suddenly, surprising her. Harry knew what he was feeling was massive amounts of mana, yet he had no idea where it was coming from. "It feels like I'm in the middle of a large crowd and I'm being smothered. This place feels like it's about to explode with pent up energy."

Caster observed him closely without pausing in her actions. Harry resumed staring at the thread, trying to identify the shapes she formed with but a gesture. He thought he recognized one when she broke the silence, dragging his attention away.

"You can feel it, then?"

"It's been there since my first day here," he confirmed. "But it felt nothing like this. Just a small buzz, that's it. This... is on a whole other level."

A brief flash of light blinded him, his eyes closing instinctively. When he opened them a few seconds later, the thread was gone and Caster was right in front of him, her chest almost but not quite touching his own. Without thinking, Harry attempted to back away but was unable to do so. He had forgotten he had been leaning on the wall to begin with.

"It is nothing you should concern yourself with," she spoke slowly, placing a hand on his chest. "What you are feeling is nothing more than untamed mana."

"Mana," he echoed stupidly. He tried to ignore the feeling of her hand running down his front, towards his stomach.

"That's right. I'm gathering mana for our eventual victory."

Harry struggled to remain calm, his thoughts muddled. He was starting to suspect this reaction was entirely controlled by his Master.

"Where are yo-" he began, getting to the crux of the issue, only to stop midway. He swallowed thickly as she pressed against his abdomen with her hand, nails digging in lightly through his robes. A wave of lust crashed over him, leaving his legs feeling weak. "Where are you gathering all this power from?"

"What does it matter?"

Her other hand joined its partner on his body, gripping his hip in a strong but pleasant hold. He grit his teeth as she kneaded the area with her thumb with small circle motions. Almost losing control, his right arm twitched but remained by his side, his enormous will commanding it to stay where it was. Harry couldn't deny that he wanted nothing more than to grip her shapely hips in return but deep down inside – the place in his brain and soul that helped him resist even the most compelling of feelings – something was urging at him to fight it.

But what was there to fight?

"Would you like some more mana?" she whispered, pressing her body against him. He couldn't help but enjoy the feeling of her pert breasts against his chest, his resolve plummeting further, but that same feeling overcome him once more, pulling him back from the brink. This time, it manifested itself in that of a voice, literally screaming at him.

_Snap out of it!_

It sounded like Hermione and this wasn't the first time he had experienced this phenomenon. Harry's face became blank, showing none of his strenuous thoughts as he grabbed Caster's waist. For a few moments, nothing happened, his hands resting comfortably against her body. Then, with a soft nudge, he pushed her back. He held her at arm's length, attempting to lock eyes with his Master but her hood made it impossible.

"No thanks," he breathed at last.

Big mistake.

He got the distinct impression that she wanted to tear his throat out. She was pissed, the tightening of her muscles a clear indicator. Releasing his hold on her, he braced himself unconsciously. All he could see of her face was the tightening of her lips, jaw clenched in anger.

He'd really done it this time.

"I see," she muttered, almost choking on her rage. "You ungrateful rat."

"Mas-"

"Silence!" her voice cracked like a whip, Harry's protest dying instantly. The temperature dropped rapidly, a tiny flare of killing intent filling the air. "Guard the gate. That Servant won't be the last one to come snooping around here."

"Yes, Master."

"You are to stay there until ordered otherwise, understood? If you so much as think about moving from your post, you _will_ regret it."

"Yes, Master."

Caster turned away from him, gesturing angrily. "Go."

He obeyed quietly, leaving the room on foot. He shuffled down the hallway slowly, absentmindedly casting a few notice-me-not charms around himself instead of simply reverting to his spirit form. He felt like shit, to put it bluntly – and didn't feel like dealing with the hollow, barely there existence that state of being put him through.

Leaving the temple behind, he moved through a group of monks that didn't even bat an eye at his passing, though he doubted they would have reacted to his presence anyway without the use of magic. He could tell just by looking at them that they were heavily fatigued, eyes half-lidded and feet dragging slightly as they trudged on. Harry couldn't help but pause, turning to watch as the trio made their trek inside.

It wasn't the first time he had noticed one of the inhabitant's lethargy, yet he had passed it off as nothing more than a bad night's rest. However, as the days ticked by, their condition seemed to be worsening. The few outsiders who visited didn't seem affected as much, yet even in them there were signs of tiredness. It was all very suspicious and Harry was starting to slowly piece everything together, as much as he didn't like it.

But he couldn't avoid the issue forever.

Caster had admitted openly that she was gathering mana yet refused to reveal the means in which she was doing so. She had no reason to hide such a thing, Harry reasoned, unless she knew he would react poorly to her methods.

He had a decent idea on what these methods might be but the problem was – and it was a very big problem – Harry had no true indication of what his Master was actually capable of.

It was entirely possible that the reason for the residents' fatigue was the same reason why Harry felt like he was drowning in a sea of writhing, uncontrolled energy. It could be an adverse affect of coming into contact with a place filled to the brim with mana, but he somehow doubted that very much.

If anything, that would probably make them feel _better_.

No, Harry was fairly sure something else was going on.

Long, measured strides guided him to his destination without further interruption. Leaning his back against the left support post of the entrance gate, he slid to the floor with all the grace of a falling rock. Sitting in a rumpled heap – robes splayed messily around his form – he rested his head against the smooth, pleasantly warm wood of the gate, knees half-drawn towards his chest. Gazing into the cloudless sky, he let everything dissolve from his mind, his arms resting lazily atop his bent legs.

It was a beautiful day, if a bit nippy.

Harry drifted in and out of this state for the next few hours, just enjoying the act of resting without worrying about much of anything. Body light, he hummed a jaunty little tune he remembered from somewhere he couldn't quite recall, the upbeat rhythm keeping the young man from going to sleep completely.

He really didn't want to annoy his Master anymore than he already had.

"Hey mister,"

Yes, this was definitely the life. He wished this could last forever.

"Mister!"

But then, all good things come to an end. Harry knew that forever was an impossible dream.

"You really are quite rude, you know!"

Cracking his neck with a slight twist of his head, Harry looked toward the origin of the voice.

His first thought was that she reminded him of a certain half-veela he had once fished out of a lake; her waif-like figure, the fair, blemish free face and impossibly white hair an almost identical match. She was undeniably cute – almost too cute, if such a thing existed – dressed in a thick purple coat that looked European in design, out of place even in a culturally diverse city such as Fuyuki. A pair of white woollen gloves covered her hands, a matching scarf encircling her neck snugly while her tiny feet were enclosed by a set of violet boots. Resting upon her head was a fur hat, dyed purple to match the rest of her outfit.

All of that was ignored after the fact as he caught sight of her large, crimson red eyes.

Harry stared with wonder, surprised at the unexpected sight. It took him a few moments to notice that the owner of said eyes was struggling to keep her gaze steady on his location. They kept drifting to the side, before snapping back to him in defiance.

"Why do I keep looking away!" she shouted suddenly, pouting. Fortunately, they were alone.

Harry blinked, before recalling his notice-me-not charms. Cancelling the spell, he was impressed she'd been able to even see him in the first place. Wary, he shifted in place a bit uncomfortably at the thought that this young girl must be a magus, a magus who had also sneaked up on him without even trying.

The fact she had been calling out to him as she made her approach made Harry feel even more upset at his carelessness. He just couldn't seem to shake it.

The girl gasped loudly, pointing at him in disbelief. Her eyes were now focused intently, her gaze drawn towards his forehead. Without the charms impeding her view, his lightning bolt scar was on full display.

_Oh hell n-_

"Harry Potter!" she squealed.

Harry cradled his face in the palm of his hand.

"Uhn," he groaned.

"Wooooooooooooow," the young girl stressed, mouth shaped like an o. "I can't believe someone actually summoned Harry Potter!"

The word 'summoned' triggered an immediate response, the black-haired teenager shooting to his feet in an instant. Staring down at the little foreign girl, he felt for her accompanying Servant, only to come up empty handed. The fact he couldn't locate her partner put Harry on edge, a feeling of dread overcoming him for but a moment.

He found it hard to fathom, but realized she was all alone.

Either that or he was about to get his throat cut from behind by a very sneaky Servant.

"That's it!"

"Huh?" Harry voiced his confusion, startled.

"I have to have you!" she crowed. "Become my Servant!"

He was taken aback by her aggressive tone and unusual offer. Rubbing the back of his neck, he gave a crooked smile.

"You should ask politely instead of demanding such a thing," he chided gently. "Anyway, I don't even know your name."

"Oh, how terribly rude of me," she muttered embarrassedly, taking hold her coat and spreading it as she gave him a curtsy. "My name is Illyasviel von Einzbern."

"That's... quite a mouthful."

Illyasviel giggled, smiling widely. "Since you're Harry Potter, you may call me Illya for short."

She was incredibly hard to read, Harry found. Her moods jumped erratically from one extreme to the next with startling frequency, catching the wizard off guard numerous times. Strangely, no one bothered them as they talked about trivial things, Illya casually requesting his servitude every so often. He evaded answering directly, using all his skill to distract her whenever she asked.

"Want to see a magic trick?"

The answer was an emphatic yes.

Harry watched as she chased after the conjured birds, the look of complete bliss on her innocent features and her piercing laughter warming his heart. One thing he _was_ able to read about her was that she was incredibly lonely. The more she had talked about her childhood, the angrier he had become. Locked away like some sort of doll, she rarely left the carefully controlled environment of a household. She spoke no more than a few words regarding her parents, as they had both passed on.

Irisviel was her mother's name. Irisviel von Einzbern.

She never told him what they called her father.

He didn't pry any further. If anyone understood her reluctance to talk about her parents, it was Harry.

"More! More!"

Chuckling, he waved his wand, producing another group of small yellow canaries. They circled around Illya, the small girl twirling in time like a tiny ballerina, following their movements with joy. She was incredibly graceful for her age, Harry observing silently as the birds begun landing all over her. Illya giggled uncontrollably as one of them preened her silvery locks from its perch on her shoulder.

"That one seems to like you." Harry commented.

Illya's cheeks were tinted red, a combination of the cold weather and her large, unwavering smile.

"How does it feel being alive?"

Harry blinked slowly at the blunt question, unsure how to answer. She watched him closely, squirming in delight as another bird started playing with her hair.

"Well..." he paused, scratching his cheek. "I'm not really alive, am I?"

"I know that," she answered patiently, plucking one of the canaries from her fur hat. She cradled the small bird carefully, holding it to her chest lovingly. "But you know what I mean, right? It must be weird, knowing where you really come from."

Harry nodded. "Yeah..."

"Don't be sad," she chirped happily. "You're here now, right? If you join with me, you can wish for a real body when we win!"

Harry couldn't help but let out a laugh, ignoring her repeated request and not bothering to tell her that he could never have a wish granted by the Holy Grail.

"What about you? What's your wish?"

Illya brought the small bird up to her cheek, nuzzling it. It gave a small chirp in response.

"I don't have a wish."

Harry frowned, crossing his arms. "You don't have a wish?"

"Nope,"

"Then why are you fighting?"

Illya answered simply.

"My grandfather asked me too."

As time went on, her offer of taking him on as her Servant came more often than not, each time more aggressive than the last. As the afternoon dawned and the sun begun its slow, breathtaking descent, her smiling visage abruptly became serious. He trailed off mid-sentence at the change, giving her a solemn look as he anticipated her question.

"So how about it, Harry?" she asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The familiar use of his name didn't bother him, as he had grown tired of hearing his full name being repeated over and over. It had taken all of ten minutes for him to request the change. "I'm going to win the grail war, you know. Don't you want to be on the winning side?"

Harry smiled sadly. "I already have a Master."

Illya shrugged.

"So? Let me kill them and then I can be your Master."

The way she mentioned killing so easily made Harry feel unsettled, though it was to be expected – she was a magus, after all. A pretty powerful one, from what he could sense. Even one as young as Illya knew and accepted the expectations placed upon her – especially considering she was from an elite family of powerful magi.

Magus were not people, this was her reality.

Harry hated it.

"I wouldn't be a very good Servant if I let you do that, would I?"

Technically, he wasn't a very good Servant anyway, not with the doubts he held in his heart about his Master, especially when she hadn't even done all that much of anything in the way of causing such doubt. He wasn't about to voice his concerns, though.

Illya stomped the ground in a huff, not accustom to rejection. Harry sighed tiredly.

"And you already have a Servant, right?" he continued, looking away from the visibly upset girl. He already missed the cheerful little snow fairy that he had spent the day with. "Why do you need another one?"

_Why the hell would you want me when you have __**Hercules**__?_

That little revelation had thrown him for a loop, having stunned Harry silent for several moments when Illya had let it slip without a care in the world. The fact that such a small, fragile looking girl had summoned _the_ Hercules was more than amazing. It was closer to bordering on completely insane. And Harry understood why revealing her Servant's name hadn't bothered the tiny girl in the least.

He was Hercules.

What weaknesses did he truly have? Harry definitely couldn't remember any, though he wasn't exactly a scholar on the subject. If Harry were to view this war like a game of cards, he had to admit, Illya had a tremendous hand.

They were going to be a force to be reckoned with in the coming days.

"Fine! Then I'll just have to kill you too!" she shouted angrily, a hurt look plastered on her face.

"Illya," Harry murmured softly.

"Just you wait, I'll show you who the better Master is. Then you'll feel like an idiot for turning me down." the girl turned her back on him, voice filled with anger. It was like the last few hours hadn't happened. "And then I'll get Berserker to tear you apart!"

Hearing that he was also from the Berserker class was not comforting.

Not at all.

"Illya," he called out at her retreating back. She was bounding down the stairs as quick as she could and didn't look back, not once, even when he called her name again. He watched as she faded from view, a sad frown furrowing his brow.

"Well... damn."

-x-**X**-x-

Caster watched with rapt attention as Servant Rider attempted to impale the face of a pretty raven-haired girl, only to be denied at the last second by the lithe form of a young man. Wincing in obvious pain as a large metal spike was driven through his forearm; he fought through the agony and sought out his attacker as the weapon in his arm seemingly disappeared, leaving the girl behind as she tended to an unconscious student, a short piece of pipe gripped tightly in his opposite hand.

Rivulets of blood trailed down his arm yet he continued onwards with purpose. His face was pulled tight in anger, each step pounding the pavement as he stalked towards the forest that encroached on the back end of the school grounds. Without an ounce of hesitation, he entered the wooded area. The trees – once wide spread and open – became dense and tightly packed together the further he moved from the school, small droplets of blood falling from his limp fingers and staining the dry soil.

A minute passed by, the red-head pausing as he heard something beyond his line of sight. He looked around, a name falling from his lips that Caster was unable to hear.

The boy shuffled around on the spot, suddenly wary, before he was attacked from behind. Remarkably, he was able to turn and defend himself within the blink of an eye. Rider's attack crashed against his hastily raised defence with incredible force, yet the makeshift weapon withstood the vicious assault. Despite that fact, he was blown clean off his feet, his body twisting through the air uncontrollably. He came crashing to the ground in a crumpled heap, the harsh landing visibly knocking the wind from his lungs.

Words were spoken as he forced himself to stand, a tiny smirk plastered on his face. Suddenly confident of his abilities, he stared at the female Servant without fear.

The next few minutes was a brutal display of the obvious gap in fighting prowess possessed by the two combatants; the young man sporting several new lacerations as a result of their one-sided skirmish. Attempting to flee as common sense finally overruled stubbornness, he was halted by the dagger that reappeared in the now gushing wound adorning his arm, never having been truly removed in the first place. Yanked off his feet, he was painfully hauled from the ground to dangle from the branch of a tree, the metal spike tearing at his ruined limb without remorse.

He struggled, attempting to jerk the spike free. Regardless of the pain he did not stop, body flailing wildly as he did everything in his power to escape. Rider looked amused at his efforts, the sultry Servant taking relish in the redhead's pain.

While this happened, Caster removed her hood with a small shrug, her soft features illuminated only by the orb of swirling purple light she cupped in her hands. Still within the safety of Ryuudouji Temple, she witnessed the violent encounter between boy and Servant through the use of her magic. She wasn't sure why exactly, but the boy intrigued her. He was a Master and yet he did not call for his Servant, deciding to battle alone – despite the enormous danger.

Caster desired to know why he would do such a thing.

His futile struggles continued, Rider closing in for the kill with a swift leap. She was but seconds from impaling the young man when several bolts of magic destroyed the chain, the strange Master plummeting to the earth in an undignified heap as his partner arrived on the scene, hand cocked like a gun. It was the girl from before whom he had left behind at the school, an intricate tattoo pulsing with mana in clear view on her forearm.

Rider propelled herself away as several more bolts of magic were fired, floating through the air as if she weighed no more than a feather. She vanished from sight within the dense upper foliage, leaving the two Masters alone.

"Hm," Caster hummed, closing her eyes. "I would very much like to meet you, little boy."

-x-**X**-x-

**AN: **Well, here is chapter three. I hope you enjoy it.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry knew he was being an idiot.

There was no way in hell this was going to work.

He would only be disappointed by the results, as it was surely going to fail.

Yet in typical Harry Potter fashion – stubborn to the very end – he honestly didn't care.

Again, it was a beautiful – yet incredibly cold – night. The cloudless sky revealed an endless sea of twinkling stars, the moon absent as per its monthly cycle. It was incredibly windy – a stark contrast to the previous calmness of the day – the trees creaking ominously as powerful gusts whipped through the forest in a frenzy. Dead leaves tumbled through the air in a chaotic dance, the temple courtyard littered with debris from the surrounding trees.

It was a powerful display of nature, only a fraction of what it was capable of employing.

Yet Harry's focus lay elsewhere, his gaze drawn to the small object cupped in the palms of his hands. Even as his robes whipped wildly around his form, he remained unmoved by the small showing of fury the elements were unleashing upon the mountainside.

Because in his hands lay something far more enticing than mere scenery, something he had given up in his imagined existence but had regained with his creation, something that tempted even the most resolute of souls into indulging in its unique power.

It was a simple ring. An unremarkable golden band embedded with a pitch black, square-shaped stone that reflected no light even during the day. Made from an unknown mineral, it was engraved with a small symbol; a common triangle which contained a circle within, intersected by a single vertical line. As it was, nothing about the piece of jewellery felt overly special. No aura of magnificent power radiated from it, nor did it catch your attention visually with its plain design.

It was exactly the opposite of what you would expect of such an item, an item which had claimed Harry's undivided attention.

But that was because he knew exactly what it was and what it could do.

The Resurrection Stone, one of three Deathly Hallows.

Rumoured to bring people back from the dead, it did no such thing. At least, not in the way most people believed. While it didn't truly bring those who had passed on back to life, it had the ability to allow the user to communicate with those who were dead. Before confronting Voldemort in the forbidden forest, Harry had used its power to meet with his parents, as well as his godfather and his father's good friend, Remus Lupin.

That had been the only time he had used it, having discarded it in the very same forest, hoping beyond hope that no one would ever find it again.

And now here it was, within his grasp.

Ready for use.

"Well here goes nothing," he whispered, his words quashed by the raging winds.

Turning the stone over three times, he concentrated on his parents first – Lily Evans with her fiery red hair and green eyes, James Potter with his handsome face and jet black hair – then on his godfather Sirius Black.

Nothing.

Dumbledore and Lupin come next, followed by Nymphadora Tonks.

Still nothing.

Severus Snape.

Same result.

Becoming desperate, he even thought of Voldemort, of Tom Riddle.

Again, nothing happened.

"Heh," he chuckled bitterly. "What am I doing...?"

Harry sighed, turning the stone over several more times, idle thoughts filling his mind to numb the disappointment. He was about to pocket the ring – wishing he could take shelter inside Ryuudou, now that he noticed the harsh conditions – when it suddenly pulsed, energy pouring out of the Hallow and tickling the skin of his hand. He paused in his movement, gazing at the translucent spectre before him in surprise. It wasn't anyone he knew, of that he was fairly certain. It was an old man of Japanese descent, dressed in the simple robes of a monk. The top of his head was devoid of hair but he more than made up for it with the long, thin moustache and beard he sported. In his right hand he held a sturdy cane, the other folded back inside his robes, the arm resting lazily within.

"Uh... hello," Harry greeted slowly, understanding the situation. The stone had called him fourth, yet Harry could not hazard a guess as to why. He had not been thinking of anyone in particular. "Sorry to have bothered you."

The spirit gazed at him silently for a moment, before smiling warmly. "Ah, but I am anything but bothered, though I do admit I'm a little puzzled as to how I got here."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, hair tumbling around from the turbulent winds. Despite the raging elements, he could hear the old man's voice perfectly, like they were standing side by side in an empty room. "That's what I was apologising for. It was me you see... even if it wasn't intentional, I take full responsibility."

"You brought me here?" the man asked curiously.

"Yeah. Sorry about that."

"Don't be. It has been many years since I've laid eyes upon these lands... it is something I have missed dearly."

Harry smiled then. "Well, at least I did _something_ right."

The elderly ghost chuckled. "I think the others are enjoying it as much as I am."

Harry frowned. "Others?"

The man gestured towards the temple with his cane. Twisting around, Harry started in surprise at the sea of spirits now inhabiting the courtyard. Men, women and children of all ages were gazing at their surroundings in shocked recognition, their features holding nothing but delight. They were happy to be here, though Harry was unsure as to why...

"Who..." he trailed off, turning back towards the old man. "Who are they... who are you?"

"They are members of my family," the man explained. "As for who I am... my name was – is – Ryuudou Yoshiaga. A pleasure to meet you...?"

"Harry. Harry Potter." he replied absentmindedly, sudden comprehension overcoming him. Even though he had not been thinking of these people directly, he had invoked their surname by accident. This temple had been their home once and bore their name, Ryuudou.

Taking the ring in his left hand, he slipped it on his right hand as though in a trance. It rested comfortably against his finger, strange warmth emanating from the band into his skin. It was a pleasant feeling, like drinking hot chocolate on an especially cold morning. His whole arm tingled at the sensation.

"That is a peculiar name."

Harry snorted. "I'm not from around here."

Ryuudou Yoshiaga nodded, taking in his appearance. "You have come from across the sea, correct?"

"I guess you could say that," Harry replied slowly, shrugging his shoulders. "It's more complicated than that, but you can say I'm from Britain."

"Oh, a member of the British Empire," Yoshiaga came forward, standing beside Harry as they both turned to observe the gathering of ethereal beings. "Are you studying to become a monk?"

Harry blinked at the sudden question, before looking down at his robes. He supposed he could be mistaken for such.

"Oh, no, it's nothing like that. I was brought here to protect the temple."

"Protect the temple?" Yoshiaga questioned firmly, voice no longer soft.

Nodding, Harry honestly didn't know where to begin. "It's... a long story. And completely outrageous, I doubt you'd believe me if I told you."

"You may be surprised."

"I guess that's true... you didn't even question on _how_ I'd brought you here, after all. You are pretty calm, considering."

"There are many forces at work in this world," the dead monk stated. "I do not pretend to understand them all."

"Wise words," Harry offered, before stiffening. The young wizards gaze moved from the monk to the staircase in an instant, peering down into the shadowy abyss. He could see no more than forty or so meters with his eyes, yet his senses went far and beyond. The familiar presence moved slowly, the wind howling as Harry waited patiently. Yoshiaga remained silent, understanding that someone potentially hostile was approaching.

The figure was revealed bit by bit, the shadows receding as he advanced at a languid, relaxed pace. Harry's eyes swept over the blue body armour, spiky hair and cocky smile, his face betraying none of the recognition he felt.

"Well, well. Come to greet me, have you? For someone who hides up in the mountains, you are pretty bold."

The man continued his ascent step by step, ponytail tucked down over his shoulder to shield it from the violent winds. At first he seemed unaffected by the weather, yet on closer inspection Harry saw the tale tell signs of knotted muscles, pulled taut as he forced his way onward. It wasn't much, as he still moved with an unnatural grace, but he felt better knowing that the unexpected visitor was just as uncomfortable with the strong gusts as he himself was.

"Don't like to talk?" he asked smugly. "Or can't?"

"Lancer," Harry spoke, the man – Servant – stopping in his tracks. His face held a look of surprise, before he smirked. Ruby red eyes danced with humour as his body adopted a laidback stance.

"Aren't you full of surprises," Lancer chuckled. "But that's to be expected from one such as yourself, right Caster?"

"What gave me away?"

"Your frail body, for one," Lancer's voice was full of amusement. "Then there is that dress you are wearing."

"Nice earrings," Harry shot back sourly in response, voice full of sarcasm. "Along with that hair of yours, they really bring out your feminine side."

"Nice disfigurement," Lancer returned with a toothy smile, yet his eyes narrowed a fraction at the gibe. He reminded Harry of a shark. "It suits the rest of your face."

Harry stared at the other Servant with annoyance. "What do you want?"

"What else?" Lancer followed this by summoning his weapon, the crimson red lance appearing in a flash of light. He twirled the deadly spear expertly – clearly showing off, Harry thought wryly – before aiming the tip of the wickedly shaped blade at the fictional hero. The shaft was anything but smooth, vein like protrusions crawling over the surface like creeping vines. "I'm here to fight, of course."

Harry sighed tiredly, exaggerating his movements as he planted hands on hips.

"Can't we get along?" he asked, tilting his head to the left. He continued in a mocking voice. "Tea and biscuits, anyone?"

Before he could blink, Lancer was before the young wizard in a burst of inhuman speed. The armour-clad Servant thrust forward powerfully, burying his lance in the chest of his opponent with a wet crunch, muscle and bone pierced with ease. The tip protruded from Harry's back grotesquely as his body crumpled around the blade, the force of the blow and angle of attack – Lancer having charged up the last couple of steps – carried the pair into the air.

Lancer grinned savagely in delight, before his eyes widened at the distinct lack of blood. The impaled body exploded in a miasma of thick, black smoke; the tendrils spiralling around the heroic spirit as if they were alive. Landing in a crouch, he could do nothing as he was engulfed in darkness, the smoke impairing sight and sound alike. Leaping back, the thick cloud followed his movement, swirling around him like a vortex as he attempted a second and third time to escape without success.

Growling in frustration, Lancer channelled as much strength as he could muster into his legs and launched himself into the air. The smoke tried to follow, grasping at his form desperately but to no avail as he broke free at least, several stories high at the peak of his jump. Glaring downward, he tucked his limbs close to his body as he begun his descent. Like a rocket, he shot back down at the earth with incredible velocity, passing through the dissipating smoke harmlessly as he channelled mana into his spear.

Green eyes met red as Harry spun at the last moment, disappearing with a sharp crack. Lancer struck like a comet, the ground exploding outwards at the forceful impact. Chunks of concrete and dirt were flung in every direction, a large crater marring the once pristine courtyard. The dust was quickly swept away by the raging winds, revealing Lancer as he knelt inside the scar he had inflicted upon the land.

Standing, he leapt to the side, avoiding several metal spikes that imbedded themselves in the soft upturned dirt with dull thumps. Parrying several more – most of which came from impossible angles – he charged at Harry, swerving side to side erratically as the young wizard continued to pelt the area with conjured projectiles. Switching tactics, he unleashed a volley of blasting curses, the landscape peppered with explosions as Lancer back peddled rapidly.

Going on the offensive once more, he sprinted forward with amazing speed, twisting fluidly around hastily cast spells. Within range, Lancer slashed at Harry's throat, only to be denied as a blue shield encircled the magic user, deflecting the swift attack. Avoiding a bolt of yellow energy, he continued assaulting the magic shield from all sides using his outstanding agility, the barrier crumpling after a few more blows.

His prey defenceless, Lancer surged in for the kill from behind...

...only to be barrelled off his feet by a wall moving of earth.

Harry watched as Lancer tumbled wildly across the ground, wand glowing brightly as he directed the mound of soil from the crater to crush the agile Servant. The dirt rose up like a wave before it crashed back down on the floored hero, burying him completely. Cracks speared through the surrounding slabs from the epicentre with loud splintering snaps, the incredible force exerted more than enough to crush a car with ease.

Even so, it would only slow such a being down.

Harry held his wand at the ready, atmosphere tense as he waited for Lancer's inevitable counter-attack.

He was not disappointed.

Lancer burst from his temporary prison in a shower of debris, face twisted in anger as he flew at Harry with unparalleled speed, ignoring the beam of red energy that splashed against his dented chest armour harmlessly.

"Argh," Harry grunted, left cheek on fire as he barely avoided losing his head as he flung himself away, creating another shield between him and his opponent. Face no longer twisted in rage, Lancer gave him a feral smile. A small trickle of blood escaped his lips at the action, giving him a truly demented look.

"Got you," he taunted before his mouth twisted sourly, the man spitting out a wad of saliva and blood. Harry grimaced, remembering how the Servant had shrugged off his stunning spell like it didn't exist, even in his damaged state. He dearly hoped this wasn't going to be a common theme in the days ahead, the mysterious woman with the lavender hair having shown similar ability.

"So you did," Harry replied evenly, wiping the blood away carelessly. It wasn't a deep cut and would heal with time, yet it prickled irritatingly, reminding Harry how close he had come to losing his short life. The only consolation was that Lancer hadn't gone unscathed himself. "Up for round two, then?"

Lancer looked like he was about to oblige as he spread his legs wide, crouching low to the ground in a powerful stance, lance held diagonally behind his back. Harry prepared by conjuring several more long, thick spikes – their design similar to those wielded by the only other Servant he had faced in combat. They circled him lazily in random patterns, the blue shield he had erected humming with energy as he increased its durability.

Body tense, Harry watched with confusion as Lancer scowled, followed by the lithe warrior standing from his battle ready position. The crimson red lance glowed brightly, and then vanished without a trace, the man adopting a lazy posture.

"What are you doing?"

Lancer crossed his arms, not looking pleased. "Unfortunately, I have a cowardly Master. We will have to finish this another time."

Harry remained cautious, though he did lower his wand. Lancer gave him a smug look.

"I look forward to our next encounter," he said, body dissolving. "Piercing your heart will be quite pleasurable."

A few moments passed as Harry felt the Servants presence vanish down the stairs, a quick wave of his wand cancelling his spells. Sighing, he glanced around at the ruined landscape. The bastard had left him with a massive remodelling job on his hands.

"I'm going to have to clean this up, aren't I?" There was resignation in his voice. "Man, this sucks. I sho-Oh!"

Turning, his eyes sort out the form of Ryuudou Yoshiaga, whom he had completely forgotten about during his chaotic battle. The old man was a few paces away, staring at him with awe – the rest of his family following suit. Fortunately, Harry was used to such things.

"You... were not lying when you said it would be an outrageous story," the monk managed after a short while. "That was..."

Harry smiled apologetically. "Sorry about this, but I really have no time to chat. If I don't clean up this mess, my Master will get angry..." he paused for a moment, biting his lip in thought before adding. "Well, angrier..."

Removing the ring from his finger, he watched as the ghosts were swept away by an unseen force – their forms drifting away through the air like grains of sand. Pocketing the Hallow, he inhaled sharply as energy flooded his senses, an enticing warmth enveloping his body from within. His insides thrummed with power – a very familiar feeling ensnaring his very being – before slowly settling into normalcy, the pleasant warmth the only sensation remaining.

Harry panted softly, staring at his hand with fascination.

_...interesting._

-x-**X**-x- Day Four -x-**X**-x-

"I have an assignment for you."

Caster's voice was cold and direct. Harry turned immediately from his position at the front gate, filled with dread as he came face to face with his Master. Before even laying eyes on her, he knew in his gut that she was still in a bad mood from their previous encounter. He had a feeling this wasn't going to change anytime soon.

Luckily, the courtyard had been returned to its previous splendour. It bore no signs of the previous night and his tussle with Lancer. There was no need to antagonise his Master any further and leaving evidence of his activities for people to find surely would have drawn her ire.

He opened his mouth to reply to her statement, but she continued on without acknowledging this.

"I want you to keep an eye on the school at the base of this mountain, understand?"

Harry nodded slowly, not actually understanding anything other than the request itself. He wasn't sure why the school had caught his Master's attention, other than the fact that two Servant's had clashed there in the recent past. There was also the young, raven-haired Master that was a member of the student body, yet he somehow doubted these were the reasons for his sudden, unexpected deployment.

"Good. Luckily, you didn't use up too much energy against that Servant last night. The _mana_ I supplied you with the other day should be enough for this task," Harry winced at her tone and the fact that it really wasn't true at all; having used a decent portion of the borrowed energy she had bestowed him with in the confrontation with Lancer. The only reason it seemed otherwise was because of the unexpected power of the Resurrection Stone. "That is, if you don't do anything stupid."

"Yes, Master."

"There is something else," she added curtly. "Something that is of utmost importance,"

Harry had a bad feeling about this.

"There is a teacher there who goes by the name of Kuzuki Souichirou," she sounded reluctant to reveal this to him, her voice becoming strained for but an instant. "You are to avoid him at all costs, do I make myself clear?"

Harry barely heard anything beyond the name she uttered, recognizing the surname instantly. A half-scowling, handsome face with sharp, cold eyes obscured by angular glasses flashed in Harry's mind.

"If you are seen by him, I will be most _displeased_."

He wanted to ask why this was so, ask how she knew this Kuzuki Souichirou. He had visited the temple, this was true. It was possible that they had met unexpectedly, though Harry doubted that very much. There was more to it, he was certain, yet he was also certain he would not get answers from his Master.

Not now.

Probably never, with how things were going.

"I understand," he began. "But who will watch the gate, Master?"

"Let me worry about that. Now go."

That said she vanished in a whirl of cloth.

Alone, Harry made his way down the stairs – reverting to spirit form in the process. As he moved, his thoughts centred on Kuzuki Souichirou despite himself. Harry always did like a good mystery, though the rate in which certain mysteries tried to kill him during his schooling was somewhat alarming – he had a feeling this may be no different. The man was dangerous – if only in the general sense – but the whys and how's eluded him.

A simple man – even if he _was_ potentially dangerous – should be beneath his Master's concern, yet...

...she definitely felt he was worth her attention, yet the reason was unclear.

Pausing at the base of the stairs, Harry turned as he felt a ripple of powerful magic. A purple barrier briefly flashed into existence over the entire mountain, the visible gap before him closing quickly without a sound before the dome faded from view.

_She's closed off the only entrance..._

Paying no heed to the almost nonexistent mana drain he felt, he forged onward. It would be a good while before the effects of being away from the temple grounds would become a problem. For now, he would forget that and focus on his task.

Dawn had long ended as Harry approached the school grounds, the sun steadily climbing over the horizon. Very few people were up and about at this hour, the handful he had come across in their own little worlds as they went about their morning routine. He doubted they would have noticed him even if he had been corporeal, so absorbed in their activities.

Reappearing briefly before the school gates, he tapped himself on the head with his wand; the unpleasant sensation that followed was like that of an egg being broken in his hair, a cold feeling flooding his senses as it trickled over his body, becoming one with his surroundings as the disillusionment charm took affect. Not as powerful as his invisibility cloak, it was much more mana efficient than the Hallow – the major drawback being that he had no idea if the simple magic would be effective against the superior eyesight of a Servant, yet he was confident that it would hide his spiritual presence if he didn't do anything reckless. Pocketing his wand, he quickly glanced at the plaque adorning the wall beside him.

It read Homurabara Gakuen.

From his position on the sidewalk, he studied the school grounds with keen eyes – something he hadn't bothered with the last time he was there. Fifty meters or so in front of him lay the main school centre, the large three-story complex broken up into several separate, rectangular buildings of modern yet practical design. They were spaced evenly apart, positioned in such a way that they created an enclosed courtyard between their towering frames – of which had been the host of Lancer and the unknown Servants impromptu battle. Beyond the boundary wall and to his immediate right, lay a massive expanse of bare grass land, most likely used for sporting activities and other schooling events requiring such wide open space.

He could see nothing else from where he stood, though he was impressed by how clean everything looked – it was a very well looked after institute, of that he was certain.

Crossing the gates threshold, he ground to a startled halt as a foreign magic swept over him. His body tingled lightly for a few moments, before the sensation faded away.

_What the hell was that?_

Suddenly wary, he glanced around for a few moments but found nothing out of the ordinary. Extending his senses, he felt no Servants nearby, nor did he feel any magus' – telling him what he already suspected.

He was alone.

However, that wasn't to say he felt nothing abnormal.

"A barrier, then," he whispered to himself, staring at the small magic circle drawn on the interior of the boundary wall to his left – his brief scan having alerted him to its presence. Despite giving off a faint red glow, Harry knew that no ordinary person would be able to see the complex seal. He suspected that even a magus would have trouble locating it without specialized training or some amazing instincts. Even then, he knew they wouldn't be able to _see_ it like he could without being right next to it and forcing the symbol to reveal itself, even if they did know its general location.

As a member of the Caster class, he had a much easier time of it as he was in tune with magic to an incredible degree – yet he had absolutely no idea what the circle represented, his magical knowledge not of this world, thus completely useless in this situation. The most he could tell was that they were supporting the barrier that enclosed the school grounds like a sickening shroud, the icy feeling that had clawed at his gut when he had entered more than enough reason to doubt that it was purely a defensive tactic.

There was definitely a malicious intent behind its creation.

"But what the hell does it do?" he muttered, turning back towards the school complex. "What's so special about this scho-"

"W-Who's there?" a female voice called from behind.

Harry stilled, remaining quiet as a woman shuffled passed him nervously – her head darting every which way, face apprehensive. She appeared to be in her thirties, black hair pulled back in a messy bun. The woman hugged a set of files to her modest chest, brown eyes searching for an unseen culprit. Dressed in plain, sensible clothing, she was one you could easily lose in a crowd of people if you weren't paying attention. Far from ugly, yet not what one would call beautiful.

"Hello?"

Though she did have a pretty nice voice, Harry concluded as she visibly gathered her courage and continued on her way toward the closest building – probably with a bit more haste than she would normally. It wasn't every day that you heard a disembodied voice, after all.

_Must be a teacher._

Following her example, he casually strolled across the grounds and entered the same building a few minutes later. In no hurry, he navigated the corridors with ease – the straightforward layout a piece of cake for a Hogwarts graduate like himself. Practically gliding over the well polished floors and passing through multiple classrooms, he spent about an hour searching all three floors – finding several more sigils in the process, all well hidden.

However, his lack of knowledge prevented him from attempting their removal. All he could do was memorize their location and move on, silent as a ghost.

He encountered few people; the only noteworthy exception being a handful of teachers camped out in the staffroom drinking tea, including the woman from earlier whom he had unwittingly terrified. Listening to their conversation, he learned nothing of value – though he found the story one of the male teachers shared about haunted schools quite entertaining, covering his mouth at the panicked look the unnamed teacher was shooting her colleagues. Thoroughly amused, he was about to leave them to their morning chat...

"Oh, did you hear about Kuzuki-sensei?" the story teller asked abruptly.

...when a familiar name stopped him in his tracks.

"What about him?" the black-haired thirty-something asked, setting down her cup.

"He's getting married,"

The startled silence was broken after a few moments as an elderly woman spoke hesitantly, "Are you sure? He doesn't... seem like the type."

"I know, right? But I overheard him and Ryuudou-san – the student council president – talking about it the other day."

Confusion was heavy in the air as one of the other male teachers asked, "But why would he be talking to a student about such a thing?"

"Apparently, his fiancé is staying at Ryuudou Temple until the wedding. They were discussing..."

Harry felt like he had been punched in the gut, almost stumbling back out into the empty hallway. Almost as if in a trance, he wandered towards the windows and stared out over the grounds, eyes unfocused as he pieced the puzzle together.

_There is only one woman staying at the temple._

It really wasn't that hard to figure out who this mysterious fiancé was, even if it made no sense to him whatsoever.

_They are closer than I thought..._

It was unthinkable, but...

_...can he be her Master?_

He was no magus, Harry was sure of it. Despite the dangerous vibes the man gave out, Harry had not felt one drop of magic within him. But that didn't change the fact that he was close to his Master – to Caster – and she was not one to suffer uselessness. Unless they were truly lovers - and why would a Servant have a lover, he thought – it really was one of the only possibilities that made sense.

_Unless she's using him to scout, controlling him..._

Her warning from earlier resounded within his mind, derailing that line of thought.

_Damn, this is getting complicated._

Students were starting to arrive in droves as he exited the building – the quiet atmosphere broken as more and more people filed in through the gates, their idle chatter creating a pleasant background noise. Moving quickly, he entered the next block of classrooms – expertly weaving around a pretty brown-haired woman who nearly barrelled right into him in her haste. A bemused smile covered his camouflaged face as he watched her skip down the hallway towards the stairs, green dress swaying in time with each movement. Under her dress, she wore a yellow long sleeved shirt with green stripes, an odd combination that somehow seemed to work for her.

Momentarily forgetting his current dilemma, he trailed after the odd lady.

The day was still young.

-x-**X**-x-

Rider watched silently – her covered eyes having little trouble locating his whereabouts, despite her blindfold and his unique camouflage. Her perfect features remained motionless, betraying none of the surprise she felt at his unexpected appearance. Stalking him from the shadows, she remained alert – every action taken a carefully thought out and executed move. She was as swift as the wind and just as silent – even when she took to the trees, not a single leaf disturbed as she wrapped her body around a sturdy branch like a coiled snake, being careful to keep a considerable amount of distance between herself and her target without giving up her line-of-sight.

For the better part of the day, she had been tracking his progress; initially alarmed at the apparent ease he discovered her hidden sigils, the anchor points for her Noble Phantasm – Blood Fort Andromeda. It was a technique that she desperately needed to increase her combat effectiveness and its loss would have been a major setback, one she could ill afford. Rider had been prepared to engage the magic user in combat at the earliest opportune moment, when she realised something decidedly odd.

He hadn't destroyed any of the magic circles he had uncovered.

No matter how many times she attempted to understand his potential reasoning for such an act, it remained shrouded in mystery. It was unsettling the normally calm spirit – her inability to uncover his motive.

She never once contemplated that he was simply _unable_ to complete such a task.

Her prey paused without warning.

Breathing stilled, she observed in nervous anticipation – muscles pulled taut and ready to react at a moment's notice, not for the first time since she had started tailing her target. A few seconds passed before she relaxed, body lying limp once more against the coarse bark.

_He found another one._

She watched as he idly traced the illuminated lines of the magic circle with his finger.

-x-**X**-x-

Harry had to give it to her.

She sure was persistent.

_She's been stalking me for hours. It's kind of creepy._

The day had progressed quite slowly after the mornings revelations. He had lost count of the many sigils he had discovered, having become incredibly bored with the routine. The boredom had briefly lifted as he gained a silent shadow – a very familiar, very _attractive_ shadow – but the novelty had waned as time wore on as it become increasingly apparent that she was not going to do anything more than follow him around like a lingering odour.

He contemplated going up to her himself but decided it was much too troublesome – even if it _would_ lighten things up. He wasn't really in the mood for fighting, not that he ever _was _in the mood for such a thing.

Her appearance here had been a surprise but wasn't terribly concerning. He already knew that her Master sent her out on her own, just as he was currently. He concluded that she – like he himself – was gathering information.

He was content enough to leave it at that. If he was wrong, he'd deal with it.

Removing his hand from the wall, he continued onward – gazing up at the late afternoon sky. The final bell had rung quite some time ago, the students having departed shortly after. He probably didn't even need to keep the disillusion charm active but decided to keep it, just in case.

He approached a well kept building some time later – separate from the block of classrooms to his right. The closer he got, the more he was able to make out beyond the obvious – his eyebrows rising in surprise at the unexpected sight.

_Archery range... huh._

While he couldn't see inside the building itself from his angle, the strip of well maintained grass leading up to the very visible targets was enclosed only by a rudimentary fence. It wasn't hard to figure it out from there.

"...I see. Then what's up with that boundary field?" a doubtful voice sounded suddenly, alarm bells ringing in Harry's mind at the strange question. He rounded the corner he was approaching quickly. "You're saying you don't want to fight even though you have such a thing set up?"

The voice belonged to a boy of average height, the beige clothing clearly marking him as a student – which he wore quite casually, the top unbuttoned to reveal a white muscle shirt beneath. He was handsome and held himself in way that spoke of a subtle sort of strength, yet what drew Harry's attention the most was the mop of spiky ginger hair that he sported, an unusual colour for someone of Japanese descent.

"Are you stupid?" his companion asked lightly. "That's for my protection. There's a magus named Tohsaka that attends this school. She won't hesitate to fight. Since I'm not a magus, I have to set up protection for myself. That boundary field is set up for that purpose alone. I won't activate it as long as I don't get attacked."

He was also a student, a bit taller than the first yet not as solidly built. A pale complexion, his wavy hair was even more bizarre – a shade of blue that Harry found hard to believe was natural. The only two people he had seen which such strange hair colour in his life were Tonks – the result of her unique morphing abilities – and the busty female Servant that was watching him at this very moment.

Here he thought she was special in that regard, on account of being a heroic spirit.

Guess not.

Then something the blue-haired boy said clicked.

_I'm not a magus; I have to set up protection for myself._

He wasn't lying. He wasn't a magus. Yet he had admitted to erecting the barrier that encompassed the school grounds, an impossibility as far as he was aware – and a flat out lie if there ever was one, if only on the latter point. There was no way it was only for protection.

The other boy, however... it was faint, yet Harry felt the telltale signs – if only _barely_.

He seemed to be thinking something over, before he spoke again with barely concealed aggression. "Shinji... are you the one that attacked the female student yesterday?"

"...Oh, that?" the boy – Shinji – replied without care. "I couldn't help it. My Servant's unmanageable and she attacks people if I let her be. I'm just a normal person; I'm not a magus like Tohsaka so it's hard for me to get her to obey me."

Harry stared at the boy incredulously.

_Did he just say he has a..._

"...Then what happened yesterday is an accident? Your Servant did it herself?"

He didn't sound convinced, yet it looked like he desperately wanted that to be the case. That it was all an accident, the assault of an innocent student.

"Yeah, I'll be careful from now on. I don't want anything happening here either. I'll make sure the only thing she does is to protect me."

"...You swear that's true, Shinji?"

"Why would I lie? I could've kept it a secret, but I told you about it. You were getting suspicious of me, right? I'll have to fight back if you attack me, so I came out with it before that happened." He paused for a moment, before adding, "I don't want to fight anybody."

It was hard to conceive with the way they were confronting one another, but Harry had a feeling there was a friendship in here somewhere amongst the hostility. It was buried – buried quite deep – but small gestures gave it away.

Like the way the ginger-haired boy _wanted_ to believe Shinji but knew better than to take his words at face value – even if he followed it up with...

"All right, I'll believe you. If you're not going to do anything, I won't do anything to you either. That's fine, right, Shinji?"

"Good, you are understanding for once. But that's not good enough. Can't you tell why I came here to talk?"

And like the way Shinji held out his hand, his dismissive attitude toward others – the injured student, a prime example – not applying to the boy standing in front of him. There was definite history here and it wasn't all bad – at least, not until recently.

"Do you want to cooperate with me, Emiya? I'm sure you don't know, but the Matou family is a family of magi... Well, magic died out in my father's generation, but we still have the knowledge. How does it sound? I'll be helpful to an inexperienced Master like you, right?"

_He's a Master as well? _

Being a magus didn't necessarily mean you were a Master, yet Harry guessed he should have acknowledged the possibility of this being the case – especially when Shinji had no such reservation about hiding his own status around the one called Emiya.

He was starting to see why his Master had such an interest in this school beyond Kuzuki Souichirou.

-x-**X**-x-

**AN:** Here is chapter four. This chapter hasn't even been looked over by Warlocke, so there might be a few more mistakes than the other chapters. Sorry if that bothers you.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry watched as the two young men departed before moving toward the archery range entrance. A brief wave of his hand unlocked the dual doors with a soft click and propelled them inward, the disillusionment charm that concealed his image dissipating as he crossed the threshold and entered the impressive training centre. The first thing he noticed was that it was remarkably modern – something he had already observed before entering – and abnormally clean. Harry felt the place was good enough for Olympians to train in, let alone mere students – not that he was an expert in such things.

Admiring the impeccably polished wooden flooring for a few moments, he glanced over his shoulder toward the doors that remained ajar; a silent invitation.

Obviously, it wasn't enough.

"Aren't you going to join me?" he asked airily, gesturing without purpose.

Silence.

"Following me around all day can't have been all that interesting," he continued addressing the hidden Servant without care. "So how about we talk? Over a cup of tea, perhaps?"

Silence.

"Suit yourself."

Harry barely made it halfway across the room when he spotted something that caused him to pause, his eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hairline. Imprinted on one of the walls to his right was a massive magic circle, the familiar red tinge of power leaking ominously into the surroundings on a much larger scale than what he had encountered so far. The sigil covered a large portion of the wall, the runes and foreign script much more complex – more elaborate – than the smaller copies he had uncovered during the day.

It was obvious what this was – even to a novice such as himself.

"Master will be pleased," Harry mused out loud, eyes tracing the intricate design. It really was an amazing piece of work, Harry decided, even if he couldn't understand any of it on a magical level. What he could understand was that it required a tremendous amount of skill and more than a little planning, something he could respect and appreciate - even despite its obvious harmful intentions.

Feeling the hairs on his neck stand on end, Harry turned swiftly – his nose brushing against soft, silky smooth hair for but an instant before he vanished with a sharp crack, reappearing only a foot behind his previous location. Standing before him in his recently vacated spot was the tall, voluptuous Servant with the abnormally long, lavender hair – her body clad in the familiar black and purple leather she wore to battle. Surprisingly, her hands were void of the vicious spikes she liked to employ, her stance also surprisingly open and laidback.

Harry studied the back of her head, wand clasped tightly in his hand. He grimaced softly, nose twitching as a potent metallic scent lingered around his form – enough so that he could taste it in his mouth, like he'd swallowed a coin.

That had been too close for comfort.

"Hello Caster," she murmured softly.

"Uh," Harry hummed, before gathering himself. He had invited her in, after all. "Hey."

She faced him, a small yet incredibly creepy smile gracing her lovely features. Harry smiled in return after a few seconds hesitation, loosening his grip on his wand if only a little. She really was a beautiful creature, as beautiful as she was deadly – something he made sure to never forget.

"You are very intriguing," she began, placing a single hand on her shapely hip which she cocked to the side. "Nothing like what I expected."

"What did you expect?" Harry asked, genuinely curious.

"Now that would be telling, wouldn't it?" she answered, looking the wizard in the eyes – or so it seemed. Harry couldn't really tell, with her eyes covered as they were – something he found slightly unsettling. He was curious as to how she could _see_ at all.

"So what should I call you?" Harry questioned, changing the subject. He couldn't be bothered trying to pry her opinion of him out of her as it was largely unimportant. "You have my name... kinda. I guess my class is close enough."

"And what makes you think I would reveal something so... _private_?"

Harry shrugged while scratching his cheek lightly, unable to come up with a suitable reply – at least, in her case.

"Why not?"

She tilted her head to the side, nose wrinkling as her creepy smile faded, leaving a mildly confused Servant. However her face immediately become blank seconds later, like a switch had been flicked. It had only lasted a mere moment before she caught herself, yet Harry still found the gesture incredibly cute. He had to resist the urge to reach out and pat her on the head, even though she was as tall as he was and capable of snapping his neck with a well placed kick.

"You know why," she replied evenly, as if admonishing his stupidity.

"Would knowing your name really give me such an advantage?"

Perhaps it would. Not everyone was Hercules, after all. Harry still felt a bit queasy just thinking about the fabled demi-god and the disturbing possibility of meeting such a being in battle. He had a feeling that he would be in for a whole world of pain when that day eventuated. He wasn't looking forward to it.

The alluring Servant remained silent, content to stare a hole through his very being.

"My name is Harry. Harry Potter."

He could practically feel the surprise emanating from her form, yet she refused to visualise it for him in any way. He smiled encouragingly at her, moving towards the massive sigil adorning the wall. She remained still, even as his robes brushed against exposed skin as he passed.

"Haven't heard of me?" he asked, tracing his hand over the complex array. Magic thrummed beneath his fingertips, a pleasant sensation. "I guess you are from before my time... so to speak."

"Harry," she echoed, testing his name. He found he liked the sound of it leaving her lips. "Harry Potter."

"That's right."

He turned towards her, hand leaving the wall and falling limp at his side. He studied her for a moment, before saying, "Your Master will know who I am, though they probably wouldn't believe you without seeing me themselves."

"Why would you tell me your name? What purpose does that serve?"

She was facing him now, body tense. He could tell she was wary – untrusting – trying to figure out his motives, trying to understand his reasons. The problem was he had no reason for what he did – no purpose. At least, not in the way she suspected.

He was just being friendly.

He was just being Harry.

And maybe – just maybe – he was hoping she would return the gesture.

Maybe.

"No reason," he answered truthfully. "Just being polite, is all."

Returning his attention to the wall, he missed how she frowned – unable to accept his words so easily. She tried to match this man to what was happening at Ryuudou – and failed miserably. How could someone so _nice_ suck the life force out of so many people without a care for their health? She _knew_ the spiritual power was going to the temple – had _felt_ it swell under her feet as she entered the grounds. She was well versed in stealing a beings essence and not for one second did she doubt her ability to identify the unique feel of such primal energy.

It was something a hero would never willingly do.

And he _was_ a hero, she was sure of it. He wasn't like her. He was not hiding behind a falsehood – this was who he truly was.

So maybe a Command Spell? Was he being forced against his will to harm innocents?

"That boy, Shinji I think his name was," Harry began, breaking the brief silence that had enveloped them – startling the vixen from her thoughts. "He said this was his doing, but he isn't a Magus. He even admitted that he couldn't do magic to that other boy, yet this..." he ran his hand over the pattern again, as if he couldn't help himself. "I find it hard to believe he could put something like this together yet I don't doubt he is involved in some way. And he claims it's for protection. What a joke."

Harry glanced back over his shoulder, her face now void of the frown she wore without his knowledge. "If anything, he had help doing this – maybe from another mage. What do you think?"

"...That is a possibility," she responded slowly, carefully watching the mysterious wizard as he twirled his wand carelessly – something that put her on edge, for reasons she could not fathom. A tense silence followed, a sliver of apprehension running through the female Servant, her muscles unconsciously tightening.

He was about to continue before he grimaced painfully, clutching at his forearm and nearly dropping said wand. She very nearly sprung into action, her whole body twitching but otherwise remaining still as she forced herself to calm down.

"Looks like our time is up," Harry muttered a moment later, wiggling his fingers in an exaggerated way. He frowned at his arm in annoyance. "Duty calls and all that rot. You know how it is."

He began towards the exit, brushing passed the violet haired woman quickly.

"Don't be a stranger," he called back, pocketing his wand.

He was nearly out the door when he was stopped by her voice, a whisper he barely caught even in the silence of the school.

"Rider."

Startled, he turned back but it was too late.

She was gone.

-x-**X**-x-

Someone was coming.

Harry shifted on his perch, peering curiously down the seemingly endless staircase. This night was terribly dark – not a sliver of light to speak of – yet one thing did standout, despite this fact.

A small thread gleamed in the shadow, snaking its way out of the temple and through the archway he had made his unofficial resting place. It continued onward, winding down the stairs and into nothingness – to where, Harry simply had no clue. For all he knew, it could lead all the way to China, as unlikely as it sounded.

It wasn't the first time he had laid eyes on the strange wire, however; so he was largely unconcerned by its sudden, random appearance. It was the work of his Master, after all – he had nothing to fear...

...or so he hoped. She was still pretty angry at him, after all.

"She's never going to let that go," he sighed, getting comfortable.

Upon his return from the school, he had been ordered to guard the entrance without as much as a glance at his person and before he could even share what he had discovered. She had even gone so far as to use one of her command spells to make him obey without question, though the wording had been quite peculiar – it had been a separate order all together, truth be told.

_Servant Saber is not permitted entry under any circumstances, this I command. Go to any lengths to make this true._

He had a feeling that the Saber class Servant would be paying him a visit very soon, as why else would his Master make such a command if she didn't feel the same way. How she knew about the Servant and its potential attack was another matter, one he couldn't help but ponder. He had a feeling it had something to do with the strange magic-saturated thread and the approaching magus that slowly meandered their way out of the abyss, directly into Harry's line of sight.

_Ah. I thought he felt familiar._

Harry watched as the ginger-haired teenager stumbled on a stair, a look of blank indifference on his face as he righted himself before he could fall and continued all without a care in the world. It was a disturbing look – so emotionless that Harry thought for a second that he was looking at an animated wax sculpture and not a human being at all. He figured it had something to do with the gleaming wire that passed through the boy's body like it was made of nothing but air, protruding from his back in the same manner.

It was obvious that the boy – Emiya – was being drawn here by his Master.

"Well," he muttered, unhappy with situation and what it meant. "Master is making her move."

He felt uneasy, watching this student walk so obliviously to his death – why else would she lure him here? Harry doubted it was for supper. This Master was about to be eliminated and all without being able to put up a fight.

It was too similar...

Harry looked away, old memories stirring up inside no matter how hard he tried to block them.

Walking into the Forbidden Forest alone; scared out of his mind but determined to do his part as the Chosen One.

Discarding the Resurrection Stone as the words of his departed parents and godfather echoed in his ears from beyond the grave.

Confronting Voldemort and his followers – staring the person he hated most in the world directly in the eyes and accepting his fate.

_Dying._

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he shifted again, dangling a leg over the edge as he balanced an arm on the raised knee he kept close to his chest. Even if he was a fake, his memories nothing but lies – he knew something about walking to his own demise.

But he had done it consciously – it had been his _choice_.

It looked like Emiya wasn't being given the same courtesy.

The boy vanished into the courtyard, the presence of Caster brushing up against Harry's senses as she met with the young man. He tensed unconsciously, straining to hear what was happening behind him. Unfortunately, he was interrupted before he could begin eavesdropping when his sixth sense went into overdrive.

Someone else was coming – and they were coming _fast_.

Whoever it was, their speed was impressive – their stealth left a lot to be desired, though. Harry knew that the approaching Servant cared little about that fact, their haste more than enough to paint an appropriate picture.

Emiya's Servant was coming to get him.

"Saber?" Harry murmured the question quietly, slowly rising to his feet. Reaching into his robes, he retrieved his wand – thumb caressing the worn polished wood absentmindedly as he held the tool tenderly. He felt a rush of power flow through his being, the command spell enforcing its will upon him and aiding him for his obedience. There was no doubt now that the heroic spirit closing in on his position was indeed of the Saber class.

Tapping his glasses lightly with the tip of his wand, the glass shimmered – his sight increasing exponentially and revealing to him the one who came for their Master.

She was nothing like what he expected.

She looked incredibly young – younger than him, by a few years at least – a small, petite frame hidden beneath layers of fine cloth and spotless steel. Despite her size, she carried herself like someone three times as big – moving with the grace of a lioness as she pelted her way towards her objective with a determined look upon her soft, delicate features complimented by honey blonde locks held back in a bun. Clad in a navy blue, old fashioned dress with golden trim – she looked every bit the warrior maiden with her thick breastplate, gauntlets and greaves; her waist and legs protected by a series of plates that run down the length of her skirt.

Harry stared in amazement, the sight of her stealing his breath for a moment.

Her eyes met his and without realising what he was doing...

_Legilimens._

A sharp, intense pain erupted behind his eyes and shot straight down his spine – his legs very nearly buckling at the sudden jolt of molten lava that ignited within him. Jaw clenched and teeth grinding, Harry flinched as a few pictures assaulted his mind – much too fast for the wizard to glimpse.

All throughout, his gaze remained locked with hers.

-x-**X**-x-

Saber stared – transfixed at the figure that loomed above her on the temple archway, his silhouette nearly impossible to determine on such a night. If not for her enhanced sight, she doubted even she would have noticed his presence – the darkness of a new moon and his attire a perfect match, a perfect blend. Even so, his camouflage was flawed – for while his body was hidden well, another part of him shone like a beacon to all those approaching, rendering the tactic ineffective.

She had never seen eyes so _green_.

They practically glowed as he gazed down at her, piercing her where she stood. She was rooted to the spot, breath stolen by a simple _look_, her formidable strength sapped by an unknown force. Blinking rapidly, she tried to tear her eyes away but could not – did not _want_ to even as her mind screamed at her to move, _move now because Shirou was in danger and this person is in the way__**.**_

Taking a deep shuddering breath, she focused on that thought and regained her poise quickly – the calm of a seasoned veteran of war washing over her. Jaw clenched, she glared up at the one who had momentarily rendered her speechless, motionless, _helpless_.

It was not something she could forgive easily.

"Stand aside," she called, her powerful voice cracking like a whip. He remained where he was, his captivating eyes locked with hers.

"Are you his Servant, then?" he answered instead, with warmth that momentarily surprised the female knight.

"I am," she replied, readying herself. She adopted a wide stance, hands reaching down towards her waist and grasped at nothing but air. The green eyes narrowed at the action and Saber got the impression he was puzzled, like so many before him who had had the misfortune of facing her in battle. "And you have taken my Master from me. Prepare yourself."

The figure tilted his head – a rustle of fabric deafening in the unnatural silence that had enshrouded the mountainside.

"As you wish,"

He sounded sad but she had little time to contemplate that as she was forced on the defensive, bringing her invisible weapon to bear as several lightning fast objects attempted to imbed themselves in her flesh – long, wicked looking spikes that struck from all directions, an impossibility that didn't faze her in the least.

She was facing Caster. Impossible didn't come into the equation.

With precision, she parried and twirled her way through the barrage with extraordinary grace – her hands nothing but a blur as her expert swordsmanship was displayed in full, her armoured dress flaring with each elegant movement. The last of the spikes dispatched, she went on the offensive within the blink of an eye, a powerful cry torn from her throat as she launched herself through the air with incredible speed – the stonework beneath her feet splintering from the force of her jump.

Green eyes widened in surprise, before they vanished completely with a sharp crack mere moments before the archway was partially reduced to rubble with a deafening explosion – her limbs reinforced with mana for increased strength.

Landing, Saber spun as several coloured bolts of light were launched at her from behind – her back having been exposed in her haste. Hands blurred once more as she deflected the attacks, her hidden blade absorbing them like they were nothing.

"Your magic is useless against me, Caster." Saber declared with confidence, seeking out her opponent as the final spell disintegrated upon her breastplate with no effect. "Show yourself and I will grant you a swift end."

"Is that so?" a voice whispered in her ear, a warm breath tickled the back of her neck gently. The shock had barely registered before she was swallowed by earth – the ground opening up like a hungry maw, pulling the knight down until her entire body was submerged, the soil and upturned pavement melding together and hardening before her very eyes. "It looks like I will have to get creative, then."

"You," she hissed, struggling against her prison. He was in front of her now, a faceless shadow – until a bright flash of light erupted before her, forcing her eyes closed for a few moments. When they reopened, her breath was once again stolen from her.

He was not what she expected.

In hand, he held a smooth piece of wood that hummed with power, a soft glow at the tip which illuminated the area and shed light on his form. He was handsome – there was no arguing the fact, even with the abnormal scar adorning his forehead – yet the openly friendly look on his face was what caught her attention the most, a small, genuine smile gracing his features. His eyes were relaxed and his stance laidback, as unthreatening as possible – but she knew by looking at him that he could spring into action at a moments notice, a lithe physique hidden beneath layers of cloth.

Shaking off the strange feelings that had overcome her, she was about to demand her release when he looked away with an odd expression.

"What are you doing?" she asked instead, puzzled. She stopped struggling as he chuckled weakly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand.

"I was staring," he explained. "Sorry for being rude."

"Uh," she mumbled, composure lost.

"It's just that..." he continued, before trailing off embarrassed.

A few moments passed in silence.

"It's just that you are really, really pretty."

She had no answer for that.

He coughed in an attempt to break the awkward atmosphere. "Well, then. What is your name?"

Saber stared at her captor, dumbfounded. "Do you really expect me to-"

"My name is Harry," he added. "Harry Potter."

She bit her lip in sudden anger, glaring at the magic user. The anger helped focus her thoughts. She was furious at herself for falling into this predicament, at this _Harry Potter _for unknowing playing on her sense of honour by revealing his own name, and at the fact she had even let her Master get kidnapped in the first place. It was enough to thaw the confusion, for the knight to regain her calm.

"I am bound by honour to tell you my name," she began, voice surprisingly commanding for someone who was buried up to their neck in dirt. It was filled with a cold rage, the words slamming into Harry as if physical. He knew that in this moment, he had truly pissed her off – though he was unsure of just what had tipped her over the edge. "For you have shown me the same courtesy. My name is-"

Before she could complete her introduction, Harry abruptly spun on the spot – his dark robes encircling his form as he vanished with a sharp crack. Moments later, a blur of crimson red rushed through the previously occupied space, twin swords whistling as they attempted and failed to cleave the wizard in two. Without pause, the Servant continued onward – launching himself up the stairs and onto the damaged archway.

A bow and a dozen or so arrows materialized in an instant, fired just as quickly at an unseen enemy beyond Saber's sight – a flash of light heralding each successive nock and release, illuminating his tense form. Just as fast, he disappeared without a trace.

"Now that was just plain rude," Harry grumbled, appearing next to her – wand tip still alight. "So he is of the Archer class, huh? He sure fooled me with all that sword swinging he does."

Harry hummed for a second, before continuing. "Are you two allies? It looks like he is going to rescue your Master."

He sounded unworried at the prospect.

"Let us continue," she murmured suddenly.

"Hmm?" Harry turned, glancing down at her head. "You can hardly continue in that st-"

With a great heave powered by mana-infused limbs, Saber erupted from the ground like a popped cork, invisible blade arching upward.

"Guh!"

Harry stumbled back with a grunt, dark liquid splashing his face as a burning seared across his chest – almost crippling him in its suddenness. Without thought, he brought his wand up and gave it an elaborate twirl; a billow of black smoke obscuring Saber's sight and causing her second strike to go wide, clipping his robes as he backtracked clumsily. Charging forward, she advanced through the smoke and made for a third slash, eyes widening as a blast of freezing cold water lanced into her face with a wet smack – the impressive force behind the stream blowing the knight clean off her feet.

Tumbling down the stairs, she quickly regained her footing, unharmed by the assault – strands of her honey blonde hair sticking to her now wet face. She glared up at her opponent, who held his chest with a pained expression; hand and robes drenched in blood. A trail of water hovered around his form, its end unseen as it looped its way from around several trees to the left – drawn from a nearby stream in the surrounding forest.

"Step aside, Caster. You can not hold me here."

Harry laughed softly, a hoarse sound as he panted – the pain the cause of his slightly laboured breathing. "I truly wish I could step aside,"

Like most of his words tonight, they caused nothing but intense confusion.

"But I can't. Sorry."

"Then I have no choice but to go through you."

She resembled nothing but streak of colour, her speed so great – a battle cry upon her lips. Harry reacted, wand slashing through the air powerfully. Columns of earth punched through the already damaged stonework from beneath, jagged points razor-sharp as they attempted to impale the petite warrior. The first two were reduced to rubble – vicious swipes reducing them to nothing but dust. The third was dodged, the fourth ducked and the fifth cleaved in half with no apparent effort.

Breaking through, she changed direction as another blast of water was narrowly avoided, the stream sailing over her left shoulder. Twirling to avoid several more blasts, she nearly slipped as plated feet come into contact with ice-slicked stairs. Startled and unbalanced, she was peppered with spells – all completely ineffective against her resistance. Steadying herself, she made to move forward.

"You truly are magnificent."

The awe in his voice made her feel strange.

"And you are nothing but a snake! Release my Master, now."

"A snake?" he sounded amused all of a sudden, parrying her next attack with a conjured shield. The thick piece of steel dented with each successive blow, becoming a grotesque mockery of its former self. "Come now, I am no snake."

"You kidnapped my Master in the dead of night," she hissed, continuing her onslaught. The shield buckled, but another took its place – accompanied by a sword that attempted counter-attacking after each of her swings – taunting her as it lazily floated out of reach after each failed try. "What else but a snake would do such a thing?"

"I assure you; I had nothing to do with-"

A series of massive explosions cut him off, the two Servants pausing as the ground rocked from the tremendous force. It lasted a whole minute, before an eerie silence filled the air – an ominous sign.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Harry asked, glancing at Saber.

"I do not know," she replied, copying his action.

They stared at each other for a long moment.

Harry promptly vanished with a crack as Saber attempted to eviscerate him, a matter of inches the only thing that saved him from such a fate. Reappearing, Harry chuckled slightly at the annoyed expression on Saber's face. As if cracking a whip, his arm flew forward then abruptly pulled back; a large tendril of fire exploding from the tip and coiling to the ground, the flames licking hungrily at the air. He held it aloft, a smile gracing his features as the firelight reflected off the wizard's spectacles in an unsettling manner.

"I'm not even sure if this will even touch you, since its conjured fire," Harry admitted. "Worth a shot, right?"

She was about to charge when a pained grunt filled the air, followed by a series of thumps and scuffles as an object rolled down the staircase awkwardly. Harry blinked slowly as a body tumbled by him from behind, confusion clear on his face.

"Shirou!" Saber exclaimed, rushing to his side in an instant – battle forgotten in her haste.

"Sa...ber..."

Harry couldn't help but wince as Emiya's head impacted against the stonework with a sickening crack as he come to a stop between the two Servants, a dazed expression clouding the red-heads features. His shoulder was bleeding heavily; a long, vertical slash starting above the young mans collarbone and ending somewhere on his chest. It didn't look pretty.

"Please hold on, Shirou!"

She supported her Master's body gently, her voice urgent and filled with concern as she eyed the ugly wound. She knew immediately that it was made with a sword and wondered if the other Servant she had briefly felt was Assassin.

"I-It's fine, Saber..."

"Be quiet! With your healing powers, if we return home right away-"

It was then that Saber realised she had left herself open to attack.

An attack that never came.

The knight gazed up at her opponent in surprise.

"Why did you not attack?" she questioned, attempting to shield her Master from the magic user. "I carelessly left myself open."

"You have your Master now. There is no point for you to enter the temple, right?"

"But-"

"Please leave." Harry said, sounding almost relieved. "We've had enough excitement for one night, I think."

"You are letting us go?" Saber asked in wonder, once again thrown off by Harry's unusual behaviour. All he did was smile in response. "I don't understand-"

She never finished as the wizard spun around, lashing out with the fiery whip in one perfect fluid motion. It snapped through the air viciously, striking a pair of blades that had been hastily raised in defence. Sparks rained down on the swords wielder as the whip was repelled, his handsome face twisted into a look of annoyance. He landed gracefully in a crouch, his red coat billowing out behind him as he steadied himself.

"Archer...?" Saber whispered, surprised.

"You weren't going for me, were you?" Harry asked conversationally, jerking his head back towards the pair behind him. "Not allies then, hm?"

"Are you going to get in my way, little wizard?"

Harry tilted his head to the side, surprised that he hadn't called him a magus instead.

"Master told you, then?" he then laughed. "Well, I did say they could go. I can't let you stop them, can I?"

Archer shot forward like an arrow, twin blades whistling through the air. Harry snapped his wrist forward, the whip of fire arching towards the approaching Servant. The crimson-clad hero moved aside with impressive speed, ducking low as he attempted to cleave his enemy in two. Going for the kill, the swords brutally smashed against a dome of energy. The sound of grinding steel filled the air with each blow that occurred, the shield unmoved by the aggressive attacks.

Dismissing the whip, Harry fired off a blasting curse – the swords coming around instantly to intercept. Archer grunted at the unexpected explosion, the force throwing him back up the stairs – swords giving off wisps of smoke. A series of following spells forced the Servant back as he defended himself; dodging, weaving, blocking with a very peculiar style.

Saber watched this for a moment, before glancing down at her Master. Shirou's eyes were riveted on the scene before them despite the obvious trouble he had staying awake, due to the immense pain he was in.

"Shirou," she murmured gently, breaking him from his temporary trance. "Let us go now. We have to treat your body."

The petite knight scooped the nearly unconscious student up like he weighed almost nothing, her armour glimmering as it deconstructed and vanished, her invisible blade following suit with less fanfare. Staring up at the combatants, she couldn't help but let her eyes linger on the strange Servant who had told her his name.

_Harry Potter..._

-x-**X**-x-

**AN:** Finally, I get this chapter done. For some reason, I kept having trouble with this. Anyway, this hasn't been beta read like usual, so sorry for any mistakes you find. Oh, and thank you to the person who pointed out my break in tenses in chapter two. I'll go back and fix that sometime.


	6. Chapter 6

Ten minutes had passed since Saber had retreated with her Master, yet the unmistakable sound of war continued to echo from the damaged staircase of Ryuudou Temple – a seemingly never ending stalemate taking place as two heroic spirits battled back and forth, unrelenting.

An explosion sounded, followed by the clanging of steel on steel. A massive crack splintered the ancient stone underfoot, fragments of concrete and loose soil flying in all directions as the two scuffled with metal and magic. The sights and sounds would be almost unbearable to an outside observer not accustomed to such things.

The crackling of a greedy flame, unending in its desire to _burn_.

Whirling blades whistling through the air, attempting to cleave flesh from the bone.

A bright flash of light, preceding the distinct smell of burnt ozone as a bolt of lightning tore off into the distance.

A crimson blur, zigzagging erratically as it attempted to get passed its opponent.

The frustrated yell of a spell flinging, fictional wizard no longer content to incant nonverbally.

"_Reducto!_"

Archer grunted in pain as he ploughed through a tree at high speed, twin blades smoking as he held them in a perfect cross-guard even as he was flung back like a rag doll from the unbelievable force encountered. Momentum halted somewhat painfully, he regained his balance as another volley of spells rained down on his position. Twirling and twisting with graceful strides, he leapt at his opponent as he avoided the attacks – weapons raised as he struck at the somewhat worn Servant.

Sparks rained as deadly steel met an unmoveable globe of azure energy, the wizard's body fully encompassed by the shield. Growling in frustration, Archer leapt back to avoid a vicious looking spell that cleaved one of the archway support columns in two like it was made of foam. The structure groaned in protest, lurching to the side before it crumpled under its considerable weight, the area covered in splinted wood and shattered tile. The deafening bang drowned out the sounds of battle for a few moments, Archer's arms blurring as he deflected a barrage of large wicked spikes that attempted to impale him.

The last of the spikes dealt with, he flung his swords in opposite directions – the blades curving through the air towards their target. Harry's eyes were drawn by the odd tactic and he nearly missed the black bow Archer now held in his firm grasp. His shield wavered under the unexpected force behind the air born swords, his eyes narrow as he observed the strange arrow the crimson Servant nocked.

As he took aim, he realised it was not a typical arrow – but a sword, used as one.

The sword was one of the strangest things he had ever seen, the blade coiling into a coned spiral that hinted at excellent penetration through stabbing attacks rather than slashing. The fact that the heroic spirit was using it in conjunction with a bow told him even more – that it was just as effective as a projectile, maybe even more so. It wasn't something he wanted to discover first hand, so with a small spin, he vanished with a crack.

Archer paused, bowstring pulled taut as he sought out his target. The seconds ticked by, the unnatural silence ringing in the lithe mans ears – deafening in its own way.

"You can go now,"

Head whipping back over his shoulder, grey eyes narrowed as he caught sight of his opponent. His body remained tense yet he lowered his bow and slowly eased the bowstring forward, no longer properly engaged to fire. The spiral sword remained, however – proof that he could spring back into action at a moments notice.

"Just like that?" he questioned somewhat sarcastically. Harry nodded, unfazed.

"Sure. Saber and her Master are long gone. Do as you please."

"And what if it pleases me to kill you?"

Harry shrugged.

"Then you'd have done it already," he answered truthfully, with a slight grin. "Or you'd have stopped holding back, at any rate."

They remained staring at each other, unmoving – until the spiral blade and bow drifted away as if they had never existed in the first place, returning from whence they came. Archer's body followed, reverting to his spirit form. He was gone within the blink of an eye, his presence retreating rapidly. Harry kept watch for a few moments, before grimacing and placing a hand on his chest. It was no longer gushing blood, yet it was incredibly raw and every movement sent a spike of pain lancing through his body – the wound not aggravated enough to begin bleeding again but enough that it felt like sandpaper was being grated over his skin.

It was deep and if he had been an ordinary human, Harry knew that he'd have probably succumbed to the injury some time ago.

Luckily he wasn't human, then.

Idly picking at the blood-crusted cloth stuck to his chest, he inspected the slash carefully before bringing his wand to bare. A soft, pale pink light illuminated the tip as he grazed it against the damaged tissue – flesh knitting itself back together before his very eyes. It was a strange sensation but not an unpleasant one, the fictional hero having to bite his lip to keep from giggling like a school girl as his whole body tingled from the experience.

With a steady hand, he completed his task quickly – a deft flick of his wand removing the blood from his face and glasses, and transfiguring his filthy robes into a pair of jeans and a maroon button up t-shirt, hiding all evidence that he had been involved in two life threatening encounters. Satisfied with his appearance, he began moving towards the temple but had to pause, the collapsed archway filling his view.

"Damn," he sighed tiredly. "Clean up."

The place was a mess and would not go unnoticed, even if you were blind. Potholes littered the staircase, while several trees had been felled in the short time he had tussled with Archer. Amongst the damage were scorch marks, chunks of ice and a group of decapitated wolf carcases. The jagged spears of earth that remained standing, protruded from the ground like a set of vicious, razor sharp teeth.

Oh, and a collapsed archway just finished off the delightful destruction.

Twenty minutes later, it was as if nothing had occurred – everything returned to pristine condition. Wiping the imaginary sweat from his brow with an exaggerated gesture, Harry frowned at his depleted mana stores. They weren't that bad off, truth be told – since being on the temple lands had empowered him and every spell had cost less than it probably should have – but he still felt uncomfortable with his current levels.

Probably had something to do with the fact that no magus continuously supplied him with a constant stream of the stuff. He had to watch that he didn't overexert himself to the point of... well, death.

Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved the Resurrection Stone and placed the ring on his finger without hesitation. Glancing at it for a moment, he turned and made his way towards the temple – intending to meet with his Master. He had vital information about the school. His mana stores could wait a little longer.

He was almost across the courtyard when he was met by the one whom he was seeking.

"Master," he uttered in surprise.

Caster gazed back impassively, trademark hood no longer in place. A delicate, beautiful face was enhanced by soft, almost silver-blue hair that matched her eyes in colour – the front parted, hanging loosely at shoulder length while the rest fell out of view. She tilted her head slightly as he continued to stare, revealing a simple braid woven behind her ear; a very slender, pointy ear. Harry blinked, taken aback at the unexpected sight.

But while it was unexpected, it wasn't anything he wasn't accustomed too. Dobby, for instance, had similar ears – though they were much larger and floppy, and he definitely didn't look as pretty as she did. Funny ears were nothing when compared with some of the things he had seen – centaurs, a basilisk, and a phoenix to name only a few.

_Is she an elf?_

"Servant," she whispered softly. "Why did you not stop Archer?"

_Uh oh..._

"Uh..." Harry began, unsure. "I was a little preoccupied with Saber."

Caster hummed, running her eyes over his appearance. "Yes. You did surprisingly well my Servant, considering her troublesome... innate abilities."

"You saw?"

"But of course," she chided. "I know of everything that happens on these lands."

Abruptly, her gaze shifted to the ring adorning his finger.

"Like how you used that little trinket of yours to replenish your mana."

Harry shifted, crossing his arms and hiding the Resurrection Stone from view. Caster then met his eyes, an amused grin pulling at her features – highlighting her attractiveness and causing Harry to look away, mildly unnerved. Her good mood was putting the wizard on edge, as he had never dealt with it before and never thought he would. He was used to cold, emotionless or silent, barely restrained rage. Not this.

"I have information for you," he tried, steering the conversation away from that awkward moment.

"I'm listening."

He told her of the barrier at the school and of the Servant he encountered, Rider. He told her of the many Master's that attended – Rin and Shirou, he knew she was aware of – and Shinji, whom he believed she had no prior knowledge of.

"He isn't a magus," he continued to explain. "Yet he is a Master all the same and has admitted his involvement in the creation of the barrier. Since he revealed that his Servant is female, it can only be Rider."

It hadn't taken too much to put together, especially after meeting Saber and confirming that she was Emiya Shirou's familiar. The fact that he had met Rider at the school only added to his theory, and of the three female Servants, she was the only possibility. He was rather disappointed that the sultry spirit whom he had taken a small liking too had anything to do with that dreadful piece of magic, but accepted that this was how things usually were.

Life was a bitch.

"Oh?"

"All the Servants have been accounted for. Berserker is male, as is Lancer, Archer and myself. Saber belongs to Emiya Shirou, while you..." he trailed off.

He had been about to mention Kuzuki, but thought better of it.

"Very good, Servant." she praised, yet Harry saw she wasn't surprised in the slightest by what he had told her. He couldn't help but frown, annoyed at her lack of reaction but starting to understand that his Master knew more than she let on. About _everything_.

Truly, he was starting to wonder why she even sent him out in the first place.

Or why she even summoned him, of all people.

A few more moments of talking and she dismissed him with a smile, retreating back into the temple. Harry gazed after her in confusion, his thought process thrown out of whack. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had been played – though he wasn't able to figure out just how or _why_.

Unfolding his arms, he brought his hand up to eye level – inspecting the hallow he wore so casually.

It was time for a top up.

-x-**X**-x- Day Five -x-**X**-x-

Shinji was nervous.

"Master?"

Shrugging the tan blazer over his shoulders, he glanced at his Servant. Rider loomed in the corner menacingly, the early morning twilight barely penetrating the window of his bedroom.

"You heard me," he replied, running a hand through his wavy hair. He grimaced as he inspected himself in the mirror before reaching for a hairbrush. "Today, we make our move."

"Are you sure?"

The boy paused in his grooming, an annoyed expression crossing his face. He glared at her through the mirror, resuming his brushing motion a tad more aggressively than before.

"Don't question me!" he snapped, setting the brush down and buttoning up his jacket. "You said it was ready, right?"

"I did."

"Then it's time."

Silence reigned as he finished getting ready, a quick application of cologne and a charming smile following. He continued to observe his reflection, turning to the side – even going so far as to glance back over his shoulder, back to the mirror so he could observe his behind. Finding everything in order, he tested his breath – breathing into his hand and taking in the scent. Rider watched all this with curious detachment.

Fidgeting now that his task was all but done, he couldn't help but think about the coming day. While the activation of the barrier was foremost on his mind and the reason for his current bout of jitters, there was another reason why he felt like he was about to burst from anticipation.

"What do you think about an alliance?" he asked, facing Rider. While he didn't care about her personal beliefs or any such rubbish, he grudgingly admitted that the attractive woman was knowledgeable about battle and how to conduct it.

"An alliance?"

"Do you really have to repeat what I just said?" he growled, before calming himself. "I'm thinking of asking Tohsaka about joining forces. She's a pretty good magus and could come in handy."

Rider nodded but did little else, causing Shinji to scowl.

"Don't you have anything to say?"

"No."

Jaw clenched, he wrenched open the bedroom door and stormed out – the doorknob cracking against the wall loudly. Pounding down the stairs, he paused as he came face to face with his sister, a startled expression on her face at his sudden appearance. She took a step back in surprise, purple eyes lowing to look at the floor. Her hair that matched her eyes in colour shaded her face from view but the brief look of pity he had glimpsed enraged the quick-tempered school boy.

_That look._

For once restraining himself, he glared at the withdrawn form before him.

"Sakura," he barked, the timid girl jumping in fright. He twitched when she refused to look at him, but at the same time was thankful that those eyes stayed hidden – their _pity_ directed somewhere else. Before she could answer, he continued. "What do you think you are doing?"

He saw her forehead crease in a frown, confusion evident. "I-I'm getting ready for school, Nii-san,"

"You aren't going to school today," he began, voice firm. His bad mood retreated somewhat, the nervous anticipation returning ten-fold. He couldn't go through with the plan if she was there, even if had wanted too. He glanced uneasily at the silent sentinel at the top of the stairs, her form partially hidden by the shadows.

"W-What?"

"You heard me," he replied to her soft query, moving passed her. "It'll be too dangerous. As a matter of fact, I want you to call in sick for the rest of the week."

"The rest of the week?" she repeated. Shinji bit his lip, nearly drawing blood.

"What is it with the both of you?" he almost shouted, body tense. He turned and glared at the Servant who had begun her descent, then at his sister. Alarmed at his mood swing, Sakura shied away. "Stop repeating what I say and just _listen_."

Moving towards the front door, he heard Sakura greet Rider before vanishing up stairs. Grabbing his school shoes, he quickly pulled them on – stopping to gaze at the tall woman who suddenly crowded his space. Frowning, he ignored her for the time being and finished his task. The sound of the front door opening and closing echoed through the still air of the manor.

"Master,"

Shinji sighed but did not stop, walking at a steady pace. She was unnaturally chatty this morning, something he found quite odd. Though to be fair, even a few words from the mysterious woman could be considered chatty. "What is it?"

"I know the identity of Caster."

This time he did stop, hands on hips. Now that had got his attention.

"Oh?"

"He calls himself Harry Potter."

Silence.

Eerie silence engulfed the pair, the only proof that they remained among the living were the small puffs of steam that floated from their mouths as they breathed in the cold morning air. Even the world around them seemed to grind to a halt, bird song and insects silenced, distant cars no longer emitting their usual comforting rumble.

"Are you making fun of me?" he suddenly hissed with rage, trembling slightly. Rider tilted her head to the side.

"I am not."

Shinji's fists clenched and unclenched, but he refused to give her the satisfaction of witnessing his face.

"Then don't say such ridiculous things."

-x-**X**-x-

Harry moved silently, ignoring the way the inactive barrier prickled at his skin as he crossed the threshold of the school. The sun was high in the cloudless sky yet the weather was decidedly cool, the trees swaying from brief gusts of wind. While it could not compare to a winters day in his homeland of England, it was still enough to make the young wizard mildly uncomfortable as it whipped at his body – that is, until he applied a simple warming charm.

Body comforted, his mind was anything but.

While Servants required no sleep, Harry had chosen the night before to partake in the simple pleasure. Another night of staring into the dark just didn't sit well with the young wizard, so he had settled in on the repaired archway and slowly but surely had drifted off.

That was when the dreams had started.

At first, they had been nothing spectacular – or at least, not to him.

They focused mainly on his schooling and the many trials he had overcome in his youth.

Protecting the Philosopher's Stone from Professor Quirrell, his hands scorching the possessed man's face as Voldemort's twisted, fragmented soul screamed in agony at the touch of a mothers love.

Running through the sewers, panting harshly as a gigantic Basilisk attempted to devour him. Fawkes appearing, as well as the Sorting Hat – the majestic bird destroying the great beast's lethal eye sight, before Harry impaled the deadly creature through the roof of its mouth with Gryffindor's sword, a gift pulled from within the depths of the hat.

Hundreds upon hundreds of Dementor's swarming towards his past self and his godfather, convicted mass murderer Sirius Black. The warmth of his Patronus as it battled the vile, soulless creatures that had come to claim them.

Out flying the Hungarian Horntail, using Gillyweed to breathe under the choppy waters of the Great Lake, the never ending maze of the third task – as well as the resurrection of Lord Voldemort and their first duel, brother-wands linking together in their refusal to fight the other.

The Department of Mysterious and the death of Sirius Black, Death Eaters everywhere – battling against the Order of the Phoenix. Voldemort and Dumbledore locked in battle.

The perceived betrayal of Severus Snape and the death of Albus Dumbledore, his body tumbling from the Astronomy Tower.

Destroying the Horcruxes – pieces of Voldemort's soul – and learning of the Deathly Hallows. The Elder Wand turning against Voldemort as he attempted to wield it against him as they fought inside Hogwarts, Harry its rightful master.

While that may have been disturbing for some, it was simply his life. Nothing to worry about at all, he was just remembering his past or what constituted as his past. He wasn't real, after all.

But it hadn't stopped there. It had continued toward other things, impossible things. Things he shouldn't know, things he had no right knowing. Things that he vaguely knew had occurred, yet he not been present for them himself. Things that he didn't know anything about and probably never would have.

Cornelius Fudge – the incompetent that he was – and Rufus Scrimgeour visiting the Prime Minister of Great Britain.

Severus Snape swearing an Unbreakable Vow to Narcissa Malfoy in relation to Draco Malfoy's mission to kill Dumbledore, Bellatrix as their witness and binding the man to his words.

Nagini ingesting the body of Charity Burbage – Professor of Muggle Studies at Hogwarts.

He viewed them as if he had born witness to such events, had been in the room with them as these acts took place.

Something was terribly wrong and Harry didn't have the faintest clue on where to start figuring out _what_.

When he had awoken, it had nearly been noon and his Master was isolated in her room. He had attempted entry without success, leading him to his current destination. Opening his senses, he had felt her presence had been halved – though not perfectly. A small portion of her essence had been sent out and curious, Harry had followed the trail all the way. Not once had his Master called him back through the use of a Command Spell or otherwise, so he assumed she was either preoccupied with whatever it was she was doing or simply didn't care about his absence from the temple grounds.

Whatever it was, something big was about to occur and the school was most definitely involved.

Swiftly entering the school building under a disillusionment charm, he quickly determined the location of Rider on the second floor. Unsurprised, he paused briefly outside the classroom in which she resided – a world history class in session. Spotting Shinji and – of all people – Kuzuki, Harry moved on without lingering. Whenever he approached an area where he was sure his Master's half loitered, it moved abnormally – escaping detection completely. It was like trying to catch running water with his bare hands.

Giving up, he instead focused on the magi of the school.

Lunch had finished a little while ago, yet the two he sought were on the roof – skipping class. Making his way up a flight of stairs, he silently pushed open the fire exit. He casually made his way across the roof despite the increased velocity of the wind at such a height and around the corner of what he assumed was a utility shed, smiling at the sight that greeted him.

Huddled against the wall and trying to keep warm as he ate his lunch was Emiya Shirou, seated suspiciously close to the female Master of the Servant Archer.

"I still don't believe it,"

Or maybe they had finished lunch already, as they were deeply rooted in conversation.

"I know what you mean," Shirou replied, frowning slightly. "But Saber wouldn't lie and you said Archer told you the same thing, so..."

"But it doesn't make any sense!" Rin snapped in irritation, her usual composure absent. "Okay, so some of the heroes summoned can't be proven to have existed, but this is completely different. Everyone _knows_ that he isn't real. There isn't hundreds or thousands of years obscuring that fact!"

Harry blinked, surprised to hear that they were talking about him of all things.

"Tohsaka..." Shirou muttered softly.

"And _two_ Casters'? How the hell did that witch even pull that off?"

She stood, ignoring the way her hair whipped wildly around her head. Pacing in front of the obviously startled boy, words continued to pour from her mouth in an uncharacteristic display of complete bewilderment and indignant disbelief.

"And another thing I don't understand is why she would summon someone as useless as _him!_" Harry frowned, no longer amused at her odd display. He was now annoyed at the pretty magus. "Out of all the heroes she could have picked, real _or_ fake... she must be brain damaged."

"Tohsaka, are you okay?" Shirou asked worriedly.

"I'm fine Emiya-kun." she replied quickly, dismissing his concern about her sudden mood swing.

"Not a fan of Harry Potter then, eh?" he asked jokingly, his weak chuckles tampering off as she pinned him with a dangerous look.

"Of course you wouldn't understand," she mused aloud, no longer glaring a hole through Shirou's chest. "You are a second-rate magus, after all – a second-rate hero waving a silly little wand would impress you, wouldn't it Emiya-kun?"

Harry had heard enough.

"Useless, hm?"

Rin nearly squawked in shock at the sudden voice, stumbling as she spun around to face the owner. Shirou was on his feet in an instant, lunchbox crashing to the ground in his haste – spilling the remaining contents across the smooth concrete. Harry stood a few feet away, the remnants of his disillusionment charm fading away as he gave a chilling smile – the two students blanching as they realised he had heard everything.

"Second-rate hero," he continued, stroking his chin. "Wow. You sure know how to trample someone's ego, don't you?"

Naturally, their eyes shot to his forehead as if rehearsed and were greeted by a lightning bolt-shaped scar, as they'd feared. While Shirou grit his teeth at the evidence, Rin stared at the subject of her small rant, speechless – but only for a few moments. She then began to laugh, Harry arching an eyebrow in question as Shirou glanced at his ally in shock.

"I don't think this is the time to laugh, Tohsaka!"

"Don't worry so much, Emiya-kun. It's only the dysfunctional Servant."

She smirked viciously, bringing her right hand up. Her pointer finger was aimed directly at the fictional heroes' face, her thumb cocked back in the imitation of a gun. While Harry had no idea what she was doing, her partner definitely did.

"I thought you said a Master shouldn't try to fight a Servant?"

Shirou sounded worried as he asked this but didn't get involved any further, watching silently as a hazy black orb began to form on the tip of Rin's extended finger. Harry's eyebrow lowered as an odd sensation overcame him, his skin feeling oddly flushed and slick. A soft whirling noise filled the air as the small ball of energy reached its peak before it shot forward with a bang like that of a discharging gun. It rocketed through the air like a bullet, crossing the distance between them in an instant.

Only it never reached its destination.

"That was rather disappointing."

Harry took the tip of his wand and prodded the small ball of energy curiously, as if studying it for a school project. It hung in the air, motionless – rendered ineffective faster than Rin could blink. She could do nothing but stare as the wizard hummed a small little tune under his breath, flicking his wand occasionally as he continued his apparent monitoring of her failed spell.

"I kind of expected something mo-"

Another bang filled the air, then another and another. A constant barrage of black orbs flew at Harry, each successive bang getting louder and louder as the young girl put everything she could into her attacks. Regardless, every single one of them was stopped cold – literally a wall of spell fire suspended between them, all without a single gesture from the wizard. He observed the wall of energy with a pleased look.

"Now then, as you can see, this is pointle-"

Or perhaps she couldn't see, as she continued undaunted – Rin's slender arm nearly bucking with the force of her shots, eyes narrowed in concentration. It no longer sounded like a handgun being fired, but a semi-automatic machinegun – the space between them becoming clogged with the strange inky black spheres.

Harry sighed tiredly, swishing his wand through the air almost lazily. The attacks stopped as Rin let out a yelp of surprise as her left leg was yanked sideways and upwards by a mysterious force, the vast collection of frozen spells being dispersed with a following swish. Unable to resist, she was pulled off her feet completely, her head nearly smashing into the rooftop as her body swung with the momentum. Hanging a foot off the ground by her ankle, the tips of her raven pigtails just barely brushed the ground. Her skirt had fallen from its proper place to cover her upside down face, inadvertently revealing...

Harry coughed, swallowing thickly at the unexpected result. Next to the upturned girl, Shirou mimicked a fish – mouth opening and closing without a sound as he attempted to tear his eyes away from the school idol and honour student. She slowly spun on an axis as she remained suspended, giving them a view of both sides.

_Teddy bear..._

Harry felt embarrassed just thinking it.

_Teddy bear panties..._

And oddly aroused, for more than one reason.

Like Shirou, he could not tear his gaze away, taking in the sight and burning it into his brain for all eternity. He could never forget the cute little teddy-bear face directly positioned on the crotch, nor the way the fabric clung to her tight, lithe body. He could never forget the way her struggling made the white cotton slowly bunch up between a pair of very firm and well rounded ass-cheeks, revealing more and more creamy white skin that he felt the urge to run his palm over.

And was that a birth mark?

"Emiya!" she screamed, breaking the poor boy out of his trance. "Get me down, now!"

As the red-head attempted to pull his classmate down and avoid looking at her exposed lower half, Harry remained as he was – eyes never wavering.

_Oh yeah... definitely got a thing for Asian girls._

"I have got to admit," Harry began. "That this wasn't my intention at all."

"When I get down, you are going to wish you stayed in your little crappy book!" she snarled in response.

"And another thing," he continued, ignoring her threat. "I expected lace, to be perfectly honest."

"Aaaarrghh!"

"T-Tohsaka, stop struggling."

"What's taking you so long? Get me down!"

Jabbing his wand at the pair, the girl abruptly fell – her weight more than enough to topple the off balance Shirou who had been tugging on one of her arms. The two students landed in a heap, Rin hurriedly fixing her skirt and accidentally head butting the red-head in the face as they attempted to stand.

"Guh!"

"What's with you two, anyway?" Harry asked suddenly, hands on hips – wand nowhere in sight.

"What do you mean?" Shirou asked, placing a hand on Rin's shoulder. She was trembling with rage, jaw clenched so hard that Harry wondered if she would crack several of her teeth before calming down. He couldn't help but smirk at her flushed face as he replied.

"Didn't your Servant," he nodded towards Rin, causing the girl to bare her teeth. "Try to kill him..." he then nodded at Shirou. "...just last night? What's up with that?"

They both remained silent.

"Oh, I see." Harry concluded. "Archer has been a very naughty boy."

"Why do you care?" Shirou asked, as Rin was still unable to anything more than quiver in anger. The ginger haired student even placed himself between Harry and the enraged Magus, likely attempting to diffuse the situation somewhat. It amused Harry more than anything, but he could not help but respect the young man who willingly placed himself in front of a Servant in defence of another.

Even though Harry would do no more than batter the poor girl's ego at this stage, as he had no intention of killing anyone if he could help it.

In response to Shirou's question, the wizard shrugged slightly. "It's just rather interesting, that's all. Here you are, talking with the Master of the Servant who nearly hacked you into tiny little pieces as if nothing ever happened. How do you know she didn't order Archer to kill you? It's the smart thing to do, isn't that right, Tohsaka?"

"Archer told me that Tohsaka had noth-" the red head began, only to be cut off swiftly.

"Why would you believe anything that man had to say?"

It was a legitimate question, after all. The man had tried to _kill_ Shirou the night before.

"Personally, I wouldn't trust someone like that," Harry added when it was clear Shirou was not going to reply immediately. "If you ask me, he is worse than trash."

"I don't care what you say or think," Shirou snapped, an annoyed expression on his face. "Even if Archer hadn't said anything, I would have known that Tohsaka wasn't involved."

"And why is that?" Harry asked, curious about the answer.

"Because I _know_ Tohsaka," he declared. "If she wanted to kill me, she would do it her self – face to face. She wouldn't hide behind her Servant for such a thing."

"Emiya-kun..."

The raven haired Magus whispered, clearly surprised. While Harry felt that she was mildly annoyed at what Shirou had said – though he wasn't sure which part invoked those feelings, perhaps the notion that she would actually kill him? – the look in her eyes...

...there was nothing but fondness in that gaze.

There was definitely something going on there.

"So I guess that's why you don't have your Servant with you? Afraid he'll behead ol' Emiya?"

"That's none of your business!"

Harry chuckled at her fiery response. He was having far too much fun pushing the girl's buttons.

"Fair enough,"

"Why are _you_ here, anyway?" she countered.

Harry brought a hand up to his chin, adopting an exaggerated thinking pose. Stroking an imaginary beard – as his face was quite smooth, thank you very much – he thought of an acceptable answer. He didn't think his Master would be too pleased if he told them the whole truth – that he had followed a part of her here – so he decided to compromise.

"Weeeelllll..." he drawled, doing a perfect imitation of a young Draco Malfoy – not that the two students knew this. "I'm sure you know all about that nasty piece of work that has been setup around the school? I know that Emiya knows what I'm talking about."

"Wait a minute," Rin spoke, eying Harry with an uneasy expression. The way she held herself changed within a blink of an eye, her stance wary and ready for flight. She was now taking him seriously, as a real threat. "This is your doing?"

"Pssh," Harry waved his hand, taking note of Shirou's grimace. Harry understood at once – the boy had forgotten to let her know of Shinji's confession. "Of course not."

"Then why are yo-"

"I thought I'd keep an eye on it," he revealed blandly, interrupting the suddenly cautious magus. "Leaving something like that barrier unattended around innocent students? Eh, that just doesn't sit well with me."

Rin relaxed slightly, though she still looked ready to bolt at the earliest opportunity. Anger no longer clouded her judgement and Harry could see she was starting to understand just how foolish it had been to attack him like she did. He had a feeling that it was very unlike her to do such a reckless thing in the first place.

"Now then," he clapped his hands. "How about we-"

It was then that he felt a massive presence descend upon the school. Head whipping to the side, he gazed off towards the entrance to the school. At once, he knew it was a Servant – an extremely powerful one at that – but before he could figure out if they felt familiar or not, the air rippled around them – a blood red dome encompassing the grounds in an instant. An oppressive force saturated the surrounding air, a faint hum filling Harry's ears as mana bloomed to life all around him.

His lips twisted at the coppery taste in his mouth.

"What the-" Emiya began, gripping Rin's shoulder. "The barrier!"

Harry ignored them as they sprinted towards the stairs without a second's hesitation, his focus zeroing in on Rider – unaffected by the strange magic. With a deft turn, he vanished with a loud crack.

-x-**X**-x-

**AN: **Like always, the chapter has not gone through the beta process and may have mistakes.

Also, a few people have asked me or have shown confusion over which route this is taking place in. As of now, it is taking place in Unlimited Blade Works. Originally, I had intended to use the Fate route but that changed. Hope that clears it up a bit.


	7. Chapter 7

It all happened within the blink of an eye.

Appearing with a deafening crack, Harry observed the startled look that graced the beautiful features of Rider. Wand in hand, he prepared to deliver a potentially damaging blow – arm whipping up from his side. Her resistance to magic taken into account, Harry decided after minimal thought to resort to the more powerful, darker magic he had in his repertoire. No matter how much the heroic spirit interested him, she was attempting to harm innocents with her absurd barrier – something he would never accept.

Face chillingly blank, he focused on the spell he sought to use – vision tunnelling in on the creamy expanse of skin covering her slender neck that he desired to rend.

_Sectumsem-_

Pain erupted in his left shoulder from behind – the young wizard crying out in surprise as he was propelled forward, body twisting through the air from the sheer force and angle of the blow. Rider's luscious hair fluttered as he sailed passed, missing her by mere centimetres. Crashing into the classroom wall, his wand went flying from his grip. He groaned as he crumpled to the floor in a dazed heap.

He recovered quickly – scrambling to his feet as fast he could, searching for his attacker, glasses skewed and hair ruffled. He caught sight of him, moments before the man was swept aside by a bone-jarring roundhouse kick to the ribs by Rider.

_Kuzuki!_

Harry's abrupt entrance had momentarily stunned the stoic man – giving Rider the perfect chance to counter-attack. Kuzuki grunted as he was flung to the side by the powerful kick, body crunching against the wall with a sickening smack. Harry blinked, momentarily surprised that the teacher was still conscious. That was, until he felt the subtle yet potent magic running through his body. It felt familiar and the source was clear.

Summoning his wand, Harry absentmindedly fixed his glasses as Rider flung a desk at the downed man with inhuman strength. Flicking his wrist, the desk dissolved into confetti that splashed against Kuzuki harmlessly – the Master of his Master only now just gaining his wits. Rider's head whipped towards him and Harry was surprised he didn't hear a crack, for surely that could not have been good for her spine.

Harry felt her intent wash over him, murderous in its intensity. Smiling grimly, he readied himself – watching from the corner of his eye as Kuzuki regained his feet, adopting a loose fighting stance. The atmosphere was tense, incited further by the ominous feeling that emitted from the very air. Rider's technique was truly wicked.

It was then that Harry noticed the bodies.

Students littered the floor, unmoving – their bodies tinted red like everything else around him, giving the illusion that they were drenched in blood. They looked like lifeless puppets – their strings having been severed – yet Harry felt they were still among the living, if only just. The vile barrier was like a leech, draining them slowly of their very life force, their bodies breaking down the longer they remained under such a malicious curse.

It made him feel ill.

And it enraged him like nothing had in a very long time.

Glass started rattling in their frames – at first, only mildly, as if being assaulted by a harsh breeze – yet soon it become violent, spider web-like cracks forming across their once perfect surfaces. Doors began to tremble; wood banging on wood as they shook so hard that several began to splinter. Small popping noises filled the school, light bulbs blowing as they surged with an otherworldly power.

Harry fixed his eyes on the blindfold of Rider, just as all the windows in the school imploded with force. Glass rained everywhere as he moved, desks hurling themselves at the female Servant with a brief gesture from his wand. As she danced her way around the airborne objects, he clasped his wand in both hands, bringing it under his chin as if he were about to pray. Muttering quickly under his breathe, the limp, lifeless bodies began to levitate – and not only in that classroom, but all over the school.

Without warning, Kuzuki entered the fray – weaving between the crazy desks and striking out at the preoccupied Rider. She twisted at the last moment, yet his punch still managed to clip her in the shoulder – a startled gasp tearing from her throat. He continued his assault relentlessly, giving Harry the needed time to complete his spell.

One after the other, the floating students flowed out the broken windows like human missiles towards the track and field oval – safe for the time being.

Unfortunately, even such a simple piece of magic on a large a scale as he had performed had taken more out of him than he had wanted. While he was no where near being depleted, he had to remember he was no longer on his home turf, so to speak. He could lose himself if he wasn't careful.

Harry watched as Kuzuki's fist crashed against the door, the wood shattering as if it were nothing. Rider sped away towards the windows, but the desks returned with a vengeance – blocking her path of escape. Twin spikes connected by chain appeared in her hands, one thrown immediately at the teacher who had to retreat to avoid being impaled, the other held in a defensive grip. Pulling on the chain, the thrown weapon changed direction – snapping towards Harry like an attacking viper.

Moments before striking him in the chest, it was repelled by a deft shield charm – a sharp clang echoing as the spike returned to her grip. Kuzuki advanced, covering the distance with speed, fists blurring as he attempted to tear apart his opponent. He struck fast and hard, yet it seemed too easy as Rider fell from the onslaught.

And it was.

The chains moved with abnormal grace, wrapping tight around the outstretched arms of Kuzuki as Rider recoiled from the blows. It was then that everyone present realised the truth.

She had allowed herself to be struck.

Using all her formidable strength, Rider pulled as she spun as if attempting the hammer throw for athletics – the man yanked from his feet with ease. Harry jabbed his wand at Rider, ropes exploding from the tip and ensnaring her legs, but it was too late. The momentum was already in her swing and the man was flung out the window like a sack of potatoes.

Though in truth, Harry didn't try very hard to stop it happening.

"Kuzuki-sensei!"

Harry turned towards the ruined door, unsurprised to see Shirou and Rin present. Shirou had been the one to call out, horrified as he witnessed one of his teachers forcefully ejected out the window. He turned back towards Rider, the Servant attempting to untangle herself from the conjured ropes. Normally, it would be an easy task – however, he had strengthened them with his magic. She was having more difficultly than she probably expected.

Taking aim, Harry slashed his wand through the air just as she broke free of her restraints.

_Sectumsempra!_

She was fast, but not fast enough.

Unfortunately, it did not have the desired effect. Instead of a vicious, gaping wound that would not stop bleeding, all he got was a decently sized, yet disappointing scratch. She stumbled from the impact, but reacted without pause – her twin daggers whistling as they approached, thrown with tremendous force.

The first was aimed for his head and he was able to move in time – barely. Harry grimaced as he felt the cold steel wiz passed his cheek as he bent his neck to the side, much too close for comfort. The second was-

_Crack!_

Harry jerked his hand back by reflex, a neat cut carved into the palm of his hand. The pain didn't register however as the fictional hero stared down in shock – damaged hand forgotten instantly as his mounting horror grew.

His wand was eleven inches long and made of Holly, containing a single feather of a phoenix – a phoenix named Fawkes. It was the brother wand to Voldemort's own and had accompanied Harry throughout every adventure to date.

It now lay in pieces at his feet.

It wasn't the first time this had happened, yet it was no more comforting.

Harry grunted as he was slammed into the wall behind him, a soft, curvaceous figure pinning him against it. He didn't bother resisting, knowing he was powerless against her physical strength. Gritting his teeth, he stared into the purple cloth that hid her eyes from the world – imagining the look of delight she probably held within those unseen depths. She had him at her mercy, yet he was far from done.

"You interest me," she murmured, her moist lips ghosting over his throat. He swallowed heavily and despite himself, could not help but enjoy the feeling. "Why do you _care_ so much for these insects?"

"Rider!"

She followed the voice to that of her Master, Harry following suit. Shinji was crouched in the corner, his body trembling slightly. However, with each passing second, he seemed to gain control of himself. Harry deduced that the brief conflict had scared the boy senseless and was surprised that he hadn't seen him sooner, then realised he had never looked behind him – a stupid mistake to make, for sure.

"Master?" she questioned, tilting her head.

"Finish him."

Rider turned back towards Harry, a frown on her face.

"You interest me," she repeated, ripping one of her daggers from its place in the wall. "But you have to die."

"Fifteen inches,"

"Excuse me?" Rider asked, perplexed.

Harry smiled.

"Fifteen inches, made of Elder," he continued – his smile widening. "Thestral tail hair core."

A bang sounded, the classroom rocked by a massive shockwave. Rider cried out as she was blasted _through_ the blackboard and wall on the opposite side of the room, the wall crumbling around the person-sized hole. Harry took a few steps before turning towards Shinji, a new wand held within his grasp. The boy stared at him with wide eyes, body shaking once more. A quick glance at the door showed that sometime during the fight, Rin and Shirou had taken their leave – Shinji and Harry were the only occupants left.

Harry levelled his wand – the _Elder Wand_ – at the terrified Master.

"Tell your Servant to release the barrier."

"W-What?"

"You heard me," Harry snapped, losing his cool for a moment. "End it or I'll end you."

"Huh," he replied, eloquently. "You're Harry Potter."

Harry nearly sighed, but refrained. "Hurry up, boy!"

Shinji stared stupidly for a second, before grinning shakily. "You won't kill me. You don't have it in you."

It was true that Harry detested killing and tried to avoid it whenever possible. It just wasn't in his nature to be so blasé about something such as that. In saying that, if need be, he was truly capable of doing what needed to be done. If he had to choose between someone such as Shinji – willing to kill so easily for his own sake, for power – or the entire population of a school campus, his conscious was untroubled in its decision.

Eyes narrowed, he gave his wand a small twist – a long, black snake erupting from the tip. Shinji shrieked as it landed on him, its sleek body coiling around his neck and shoulders as it hissed menacingly, squeezing tightly. Mouth opened wide, venom dripped dangerously from two very large fangs – the reptile preparing to deliver a fatal strike.

"_Stop._"

It paused, millimetres away from the now hyperventilating boys face. The command had not been in English, or even in Japanese.

"_Not yet._"

Shinji felt a chill run through his body, the haunting, spitting hisses issued from the fictional wizard's mouth nearly causing the boy to soil himself. Parseltongue was not the most pleasant of languages to hear, even more so in the presence of a serpent. Harry could hardly blame anyone for being put off.

"Now then," he continued normally. "Have you stopped trying to pretend you are brave? Good. Now be a good little Master and order your Servant to sto-"

A flash of steel and the snake was pinned to the wall, flailing madly despite the large spike driven through its skull. A second flash impacted against a blue dome with a screech, the shield rippling from the force of the projectile but maintaining its structure. Turning, Harry frowned at the slightly scaly appearance Rider's skin had taken on – an aura of menace bleeding from her very being. She was crouched low to the floor, muscles pulled taut as she prepared to lunge, hair pooled around her lowered form like a silk curtain.

She smiled – a small, but very sharp fang produced by the act.

"Attack!" Shinji screamed.

But it was then that a tremendous roar filled the air.

The wall to their left – glassless windows and all – exploded with such force that the entire building rocked on its foundations, Shinji's cry of alarm swallowed by the sound of its destruction. Rider back peddled rapidly as a massive stone stab fashioned as a blade attempted to decapitate her and was able to escape direct contact. However, the sheer backslash behind the weapons swing blasted the woman back through the hole in the wall and into the next room, the air pressure produced beyond anything Harry had ever witnessed in his life.

He took an involuntary step back as he set eyes on the one who had wielded such power.

Humongous did not do the man justice. Standing at over eight foot tall and probably weighing in at over three hundred kilograms, his body rippled with impossible muscle – like he had been chiselled out of a slab of marble, or perhaps more accurately, smelted from bronze. He was a true behemoth, his once handsome face twisted in insurmountable rage, eyes gleaming with insanity as he took in his surroundings – looking for his next victim. In his hand he held the massive slab that had blown Rider away without even touching her, his only clothing an armoured girdle and skirt around his waist.

Immediately, Harry knew who he was.

"Oh shit,"

-x-**X**-x-

Panting filled the hallway as the two students ran with all their might.

Shortly after witnessing Kuzuki-sensei's exit, Shirou and Rin had beat a hasty retreat. They had no intention of getting between the two battling Servants, as at most, they would be mere nuisances. Instead, they decided to check on their teacher. He would surely be injured after being thrown out the second floor window – if not dead – and Shirou was adamant that they should help, something that Rin secretly agreed with.

They could do nothing for the students – not yet. At the very least, they had been removed from the battle ground and she was positive that Harry Potter had something to do with that. It was a small mercy, but better than nothing. They just hoped that the fictional hero would be able to finish his opponent as fast as possible, as the student body wouldn't last forever.

The fact that Rin now expected the dysfunctional Servant to defeat a true heroic spirit was not lost on her partner, but he wisely kept his opinion to himself. There wasn't time for that right now. Especially since-

"Tohsaka!"

Shirou gripped her arm, halting her advance mid-stride. She was about to scold him before she realised why he had done such a thing, feeling embarrassed for not noticing them herself.

"What the hell are those?"

At the end of the hall, dozens of skeletal beings loitered dangerously. They had vaguely humanoid bodies but their heads were anything but, the skull resembling that of a beast and not of a man. Sharp teeth chattered as they moved as one, wicked blades made from bone raised with obvious intent. They were faster than they looked and were upon the two Masters sooner than expected.

Unfortunately for them, Tohsaka Rin reacted without hesitation.

Familiar bangs filled the school, followed by the sound of splintering bone. Her curse tore their attackers asunder with remarkable ease, a large majority cut down by the first volley. It didn't take long until all of them were reduced to pieces, scattered haphazardly. It looked like a small war zone.

"Come on."

They moved on quickly, reaching the stairs and vaulting their way down to save time, continuing their sprint without pause as they approached the exit. Shouldering through the doors, they ran towards the corner of the building, bracing themselves for a gruesome scene. Alive or not, a human body falling that far would not paint a pretty picture.

A strangled gasp escaped Rin's throat, Shirou freezing in place.

"Aww," a childish voice whined. "You aren't the real one."

It was Ilya and that alone brought a chill down their spines as predictably she was not alone, Berserker's massive frame dwarfing the tiny girl from his position behind her. He stood unmoving, a rumbling growl bubbling in his broad-as-a-wall chest. Opposite them, a shadowy form floated – positioned protectively in front of Kuzuki, whom upon closer inspection was found to be completely unharmed. From their position, they couldn't get a good look at the being, but something about its shape set off alarm bells in Shirou's mind.

"This is unfair," the young girl continued, pouting cutely. "I come all this way and all I find is a copy."

The growl become louder, insanely powerful muscles flexing as Berserker hefted his slab of stone like it weighed nothing. Ilya smiled – a smile filled with the promise of future pain.

"Oh well, I'll kill you anyway."

Carefree would be the word to use to describe her tone of voice. Saying such a thing, without a care in the world...

...Shirou felt something settle in the pit of his stomach, weighing him down. He knew that his fellow Masters could be monsters and had seen firsthand already that Ilya and her Servant made a destructive pair, unconcerned with the lives of others. Even so, hearing her talk that way would always unsettle him.

"Attack, Berserker!"

The giant man was in motion before the little girl even finished her command, the ground cracking under the immense pressure as he leapt forward with an ear splitting roar. The two students had witnessed this beast in battle before, but that didn't stop them from being amazed once more at his incredible speed. Twenty meters become zero within a breath, the monstrous Servant looming over his prey.

The shadowy figure slipped away like flowing water, enveloping Kuzuki as the massive stone-blade soared through the air with an ominous howl – the sheer strength behind the swing kicking up gale force winds. Just as the teacher was completely shielded from view, the shadow was cleaved in two without resistance. The tattered remains drifted apart, riding the turbulent winds – the first piece pooling at the base of a tree while the other moved through the air, higher and higher, twisting and turning. Shirou frowned at the impossible movement and knew it had not gone unnoticed by the others.

It settled on a ledge by a window on the second floor, unravelling to reveal an unharmed Kuzuki and an equally unharmed-

"That's Caster," Shirou muttered, turning toward Rin. The obscuring shadows were now absent after Berserker's attack and her distinctive form was on display. No wonder it had seemed so familiar to him. "She's the one that lead me to the temple."

"She's protecting Kuzuki-sensei," Rin pointed out, eyes narrow. "He must be her Master, but..."

"But what?" Shirou prompted as she trailed off.

"It doesn't matter," she answered, waving him off. "But I think we are going to need Saber. Archer isn't answering my calls and I only have one Command Spell left. I can't bring him here by force, but you can bring Saber."

Shirou nodded.

The two jumped as the school building shuddered next to them. Turning back to the battle, Caster and Kuzuki were no where in sight. In their place stood the crumbling remains of the second floor wall, the hulking frame of Berserker held within. They watched in fascination as brick and wood plummeted to the ground, a cloud of dust descending over the area from the hasty destruction.

"Aww," Ilya whined, stomping the ground and drawing their attention. "She teleported away."

She then smiled – her rapid change in emotions rather disconcerting.

"She was only a fake, anyway," she said while twirling a lock of pure white hair. "Oh well."

Berserker roared with rage and Ilya glanced up, a startled look crossing her face. The insane Servant was encased in several layers of chain, muscles bulging as he flexed his arms away from his body. The chains snapped with ease – the sound of popped links and shearing metal filling their ears – yet more took their place, attempting to overpower the large man. A flash of purple darted from around his form, the ends of the chain following.

Rider vaulted from the classroom like a bullet, arms visibly straining as she pulled with all her enhanced might. Berserker stumbled backwards at the unexpected strength she exerted before the damaged floor gave way under his heavy frame. Gravity took its course, the ground splintering as three-hundred plus kilograms of rippling, bronze muscle crashed to Earth. Large cracks spread from the epicentre, the heroic spirit taken off his feet for the first time.

"Wha-" Ilya began, eyes wide as a terrible visage appeared before her.

The once beautiful face of Rider was now a twisted mockery of its former self, hard bone ridges replacing the soft jaw and brow line of norm. Two large, abnormally sharp fangs protruded from her mouth, a permanent snarl now fixed in place. Her skin no longer resembled anything human, green scales shifting across every visible body part while her hair whipped around in a frenzy, the violet locks seemingly taking on a life of their own.

Ilya froze as the spike-like dagger descended.

Berserker roared with fury as he closed in on the pair, the fall having done absolutely nothing to damage the beast. But of course, that had not been its intention. Despite the brutes amazing, mind boggling speed, god-like strength and near-unstoppable nature...

...he was going to be too late to save his Master.

But that was okay.

The expected spray of blood never occurred as the dagger sailed harmlessly through nothing but air. At the last possible second, Ilya was roughly tugged to the side by an unseen force, a whimper of shock escaping the girl as she flew through the air. Warmth assailed her as she impacted against something soft yet unyielding, an arm cradling the young magus gently around the waist as her large hat tumbled to the ground. She hung limply for a moment – still in shock – before she instinctively grasped at the soft material pressed against her face, craning her neck to see just what had happened.

Familiar green eyes met red.

"Hi,"

She stared. He smiled. Pale, smooth cheeks become rosy, eyes shyly averted.

He carefully lowered the tiny girl before turning his attention on Rider. Miraculously, she had avoided Berserkers charge and was wisely keeping her distance. Luckily for her, the monstrous Servant had his sights set on someone else. Harry couldn't help but grimace at the murderous intent that ploughed into him, the all encompassing anger of Hercules attempting to drive reason from his mind and make him panic.

Fortunately – or unfortunately; it really depended how you looked at it – he was used to such things. You don't kill a gigantic Basilisk when you are twelve by pissing your pants, even with the help of a very resourceful phoenix.

Interestingly, the brute hadn't attempted to rip his face off yet.

A ripple of power flooded the school yard, drawing everyone's attention. A bright flash briefly blinded the wizard, a streak of silver bursting onto the scene from a vague distortion of space that had appeared a little to his right. It looked like a messy hole had been torn through reality itself. Before anyone could so much as blink, the blazing silver blur was upon Rider – a feminine battle cry sounding.

Rider attempted a defence, a hastily erected cross guard with her two daggers. Despite her enhanced physical strength, the incoming attack broke through her guard with little resistance. But what little resistance there was, it was enough to stop the Servant from being completely torn in half.

An arc of blood hung in the air quite beautifully as the speeding flash of silver continued its path passed its target. Rider paused, seemingly confused by what had just transpired – her mind experiencing a type of vertigo. She then coughed, a dribble of blood leaking from the corner of her mouth and running the length of her serpentine jaw.

Harry watched grimly as she collapsed to her knees, a truly massive gash running the course of her torso; it started around her left hip, arching upwards towards her right shoulder, one of her breasts rent in half. Twin daggers vanished like wisps of smoke, her skin reverting to its more natural human look. Rider gazed down in horror, only now beginning to understand what had just happened. At any other time, Harry would have admired her revealed body as her black outfit pooled around her waist in a damaged heap.

She pitched forward and landed face first, unmoving.

The silver streak returned, this time engaging Berserker. The Servant growled loudly, swinging his weapon with all his considerable might. They clashed together and the ground shook, a mini-explosion sounding from the sheer force of their collision. Harry watched as Berserker remained unmoved from his spot, the silver blur tumbling head over ass from its failed charge. It was then that he got his first real look at the thing that had destroyed Rider before she could even think.

"Oh, onii-chan called his Servant."

Indeed he had, as Harry observed Saber readying herself for a second attempt. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed Rin and Shirou by the corner of the school.

It was then that the oppressive weight of the barrier lifted; the red-tint withdrawing rapidly as the spell was cancelled. Looking towards Rider, he found only a pool of blood, the broken Servant no where in sight. Briefly, he thought she had succumbed to her wounds and had bowed out of the war – that is, until he felt her spirit slink away from the school grounds. She was weak and he almost missed it, but she was definitely alive. He doubted that she would be fighting anytime soon, though.

Saber really had done a number on her.

"Illyasviel," Saber called, attracting the girl's attention. "This is no place for us to do battle. Without the bounded field, people can stumble across us."

Berserker took a threatening step toward Saber snarling, hefting his club effortlessly. Shirou and Rin had moved position, closer to Saber – enough so that she could protect them easily enough, but far enough away that if a skirmish should break out, they would not get caught in the middle of it.

A thoughtful look crossed Ilya's face, "I suppose you're right."

"I propose we go our separate ways," the blonde knight continued. "And resume this battle if you so desire at a later time."

Harry couldn't help but smile at the way in which she had worded it. It told everyone that she did not wish to fight now but it was not because she was afraid, afraid that she would lose. It was because she genuinely wanted no innocents to come to harm through their actions and that when an appropriate time and place was found, she would face Berserker with no fear in her heart.

She really was something else.

The frown on Ilya's face confirmed that she realised this also and was not impressed, "Oh?"

A tense silence followed, Saber gripping her invisible weapon tightly as Berserker took another step, chest rumbling. It sounded like the engine of a car, truth be told.

"Well," Harry said, attempting to lighten the mood. "I best be off. Places to go, people to see."

He had always wanted to say that.

He waved cheerily, about to move when-

"You!"

Harry blinked, startled at the furious glare being levelled his way. He stared back at Saber in confusion, scratching his cheek.

"What?"

"Do not move," the tiny woman growled. "You have some explaining to do."

"Uh,"

"Bye onii-chan, bye Harry!"

Harry turned, cautiously moving away from the pixie-like girl as her huge Servant stalked towards her at her sudden call. Berserkers eyes followed him like a hawk as he passed, standing protectively by Ilya as she smiled impishly. It looked like she had decided to leave, after all.

"I'll have to kill you two another day, then," she added, glancing at Rin and Shirou. The look was decidedly sinister, a cruel expression briefly twisting her soft features. How such a seemingly sweet girl could be such a monster, Harry didn't think he would ever know.

"As for you," she said over her shoulder as she walked away, crimson eyes meeting Harry's own. "I'll see you soon."

And with that, the small magus left, Hercules vanishing from sight like he had never existed in the first place. Harry frowned, her parting remark replaying over and over in his mind. He knew something bad was going to happen and it would involve Ilya in some way.

Things just kept getting more and more troublesome.

"What did you do to me?"

"Wha-"

He suddenly found himself facing an enraged Saber, who was pointing at him, a harsh frown crossing her face. He felt ashamed to admit it, but he hadn't even felt the knight move closer to him. While she was still out of striking distance, she was close enough to cause some concern – especially considering what she had just done to Rider.

"What trickery did you perform upon me, vile Caster!"

_What the bloody hell..._

"Uh," Harry began. "What are you talking about?"

-x-**X**-x-

Shinji collapsed to his hands and knees in the doorway of the Matou household, limbs shaking as he attempted to swallow as much air as possible. After witnessing the annihilation of his Servant, the boy had run like the hounds of hell had been on his tail, not once stopping for a break the entire way home from the school grounds. For a fit person, that wouldn't have been too hard if they paced themselves. However, Shinji was neither as fit as he could be, nor did he pace himself.

His heart felt like it was going to burst with the way it was pounding against his ribcage.

Staggering to his feet, he gripped the doorframe tightly in an attempt to calm down. What he had seen today, what he had been _put__** through!**_

First of all, Tohsaka had thrown his proposal for an alliance back in his face without a second thought. And all because of Emiya Shirou, of all the things that could be a problem. He was all she needed, she told him. Nothing had enraged the boy more in his life.

How good would it have felt to have wiped that smug look off her face?

Then right when he had begun to implement his plan, Kuzuki-sensei had gone all psychotic and attempted to attack Rider. Only the abrupt appearance of another Servant had saved his own from being taken apart – by a mere _human _– but that wasn't the end of it. Who was the Servant?

Harry-fucking-Potter.

"Argh!" Shinji shouted, punching the wall in a fit of anger. He grunted at the pain that spread through his hand, but ignored it as he dwelled on what had happened next.

He couldn't stop the shiver that ran down his spine at the thought of the snake, mere seconds from taking his life. He would never forget the rasping, hissing tongue the fictional hero had talked with.

"Nothing is going as planned." he whispered bitterly, closing the front door and resting his head against the polished wood.

Then a mammoth of a monster had appeared, stealing Shinji's breath with nothing but his oppressive presence and murderous intent. Rider had attacked without hesitation, ensnaring the muscle-bound Servant in lengths of chain before pulling him out the window but Shinji didn't think for a second that she could ever defeat him.

Saber's appearance was just the icing on the cake. She had torn his Servant in half without even trying, a further humiliation. The fact that she was still alive did nothing to ease the boys mind or ego.

After that, he had fled. He did not want to be next.

He had run like a scared little puppy.

Screaming in rage, he struck the wall again and again, knuckles splitting and splashing the wall red with every impact. After a dozen or so punches, he sagged limply, frustrated tears building in the corners of his eyes. He gazed at his damaged hands blankly, admiring the broken, bruised skin and seeping blood until-

"Nii-san?" called a soft, hesitant voice. "A-Are you okay?"

A brittle smile formed, Shinji's eyes widening in delight.

Oh, he was going to have fun tonight...

-x-**X**-x-

**AN: **You probably get tired of hearing it, but this chapter has not been beta read. Blah, blah, blah, all the usual stuff. I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter.

Oh, and I see this story got a mention over on TvTropes. Didn't expect that, to be honest. Thank you, for whoever felt the need to recommend it.


	8. Chapter 8

_An enormous serpent reared its head, blood seeping from its ruined eyes. It thrashed in rage as a beautiful, majestic bird attacked gracefully – avoiding the snake's desperate lunges, its massive mouth snapping at its swooping adversary. Its thick, poisonous green body was coiled around several pillars, head swaying back and forth as it attempted to devour the red and gold phoenix – for what else could such a creature be? It soared backwards and forwards, sharp beak digging into hollow sockets again and again._

_A young boy with glasses scrambled away from the fight, eyes wide with surprise. He looked no older than ten, his frame so small – a sickly, lightning bolt scar adorning his head under a crop of messy black hair._

"_No!" an enraged voice called in an inhuman tongue, which only few could ever understand. It was a handsome teenager, but his good looks were twisted by anger. Looking closer, there was a striking resemblance between him and the young, terrified boy. The outline of his body was blurred, as if he were not fully corporeal – a ghost, perhaps? "Leave the bird! Leave the bird! The boy is behind you! You can still smell him! Kill him!"_

_The blinded serpent spat angrily as the phoenix continued its assault, an eerie trill escaping the bird's throat every so often. Large, thin fangs snapped dangerously close – yet the bird was too fast, escaping with an impressive aerial display. The boy was muttering to himself before the snake flailed wildly, its thick tail sweeping across the floor. He ducked, narrowly avoiding the heavy strike, a bundle of cloth smacking him in the face._

_It was a hat._

_The scarred child grabbed the hat as if it were a weapon, clumsily jamming it over his head. A few moments passed – bird and serpent still locked in combat – before the hat visibly constricted. The boy tensed, quickly removing the hat and gazing into its tattered depths. Inside was a gleaming blade of purist silver, shining brightly despite the dark atmosphere of the chamber. Large, egg-sized blood red rubies encrusted the hilt – glittering with an inner light. Along the flat side of the blade, a name was expertly inscribed upon its length – Godric Gryffindor._

_It was beautiful._

"_Kill the boy!" the angry teen continued, barking orders furiously. "Leave the bird! The boy is behind you! Sniff – smell him!"_

_The boy was on his feet now, gripping the silver sword firmly. The snake twisted and turned to face him, body banging against the pillars around which it was coiled. It opened its mouth wide and it was large enough to swallow the child whole, rows of sharp fangs revealed – equal in length to the silver sword – venom dripping ominously from the tips._

_It struck blindly and without warning. He dodged, the snake crashing into the chamber wall with a bang. Stone fragmented from the heavy impact but the serpent turned and struck again without pause, a forked tongue lashing out against the boy's side. He stumbled but remained standing, raising his sword threateningly with both hands. It lunged again, and this time its aim was true. Unable to avoid it any longer, the boy put all his weight behind the sword, driving upward with the pristine blade. With a wet squelch, the sword was driven through the roof of the snake's mouth and into its brain – the lavish hilt in the youngsters grip being the only part of it which remained visible._

_But as rivulets of cold, sticky blood coated his arms, the kid cried out – falling away as the snake tipped over sideways to the damp floor, twitching. The boy stared at his arm in horror, a large, splintered fang piercing his skin. He slid down to the floor, limp – tenderly gripping the venomous fang and wrenched it from his body without as much as a whimper. The tooth clattered to the ground as his eyes become foggy and unfocused, already pale skin becoming paler._

_Through all of this, Saber looked on with a horrified expression._

-x-**X**-x-

"I feel rather... violated."

With the bounded field down and the destruction of school property on display, the four participants of the Holy Grail War, who had remained behind, relocated to a safer location. It was somewhere isolated at the base of the mountain which housed Ryuudou, only much further out than many people ever travelled. Harry tilted his head as he heard blaring police sirens in the distance, followed by the similar but subtly different sounds from an ambulance. Knowing that the students were in good hands put the wizard at ease, but one glance at the irate Saber chased away any contentment he may have felt.

"_You _feel violated?" she demanded incredulously. "Do not pretend you did not intend this!"

Shirou and Rin remained silent, observing the two Servants quietly, both unsure of how to react. Soon after leaving the school, Saber had revealed to them what had put her in such a crabby mood. Apparently, while she had rested at home conserving her strength, her dreams had been anything but pleasant – or even her _own_. The things she had witnessed and experienced had nothing at all to do with her, but with the fictional hero standing before them.

She had seen into his memories.

She had seen a part of his life.

And she had no idea why.

"Why would I show you my memories?" Harry shot back, rolling his eyes. "What purpose would that serve?"

"I am sure there is a reason," she returned just as quickly. "I demand that you remove whatever enchantment you have placed me under, at once!"

"Are you even listening to me?" he asked, frowning at the visible twitch she developed above her right eye. "I have no idea why this is happening, okay? And if I could stop it, I would."

The two Servants glared at each other before Saber turned away with a huff. Crossing her arms, she stared off into the thicket of trees that surrounded them. Harry sighed, hands on hips as he tried to figure out just what was going on.

"Was that the only thing you saw?"

He was referring to his battle with the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets. It had felt strange, listening to someone else recount one of his adventures like they had been there, like they had braved those sewers themselves, fighting hopelessly against a creature that dwarfed him by a country mile to save his best friends little sister.

Saber turned back towards Harry, her expression smoothing over. "No."

"What else did you see?"

She hesitated for a moment, before saying, "A young woman being murdered... while she protected her son."

Harry flinched.

He hadn't expected _that_.

"Oh," he replied softly.

An awkward silence followed.

It was broken by Rin.

"As informative as this is," she began. "You are still our enemy."

The teen magus stepped forward and came level with Saber. Shirou remained where he was, content to observe for now. Harry clucked his tongue.

"Am I really?"

"Of course you are," she replied, irritated. "I appreciate that you did your best to protect the students, but that doesn't change the fact that you are a Servant in this war. That you are helping another Master try claim the grail, a Master who has no qualms with harming innocents."

Harry frowned, unsure what she meant by that. Harming innocents? Ignoring that for the time being, he replied immediately.

"So what?" Harry asked, nodding toward Saber. "Is she your enemy as well?"

Rin blinked. "What?"

"As you said," he explained somewhat condescendingly. "She is helping another Master try win this war, as am I. Should you not strike her down?"

Rin glanced at Saber, the blonde Servant returning the gesture. "I have entered an alliance with Emiya-kun, so of course not."

"Then how about entering an alliance with me, then?" he suggested, taking them by surprise.

"As if!" she shouted, suddenly angry. "Didn't you just hear what I said? Your Master is a despicable being who harvests the life force of others. I would never accept such an alliance if it were possible."

Harvests the life force of others? Now he really was confused.

"What do you mean?"

The silence that followed was deafening, Rin shooting him a look of disbelief. Even Saber and Shirou were giving him strange looks, like he had just said something incredibly stupid. An indignant feeling swelled in his chest.

"What?" he snapped irritated. His uncharacteristic loss of temper startled the others gathered.

"You don't know?" Rin began to laugh. "Ha! Haha!"

Harry's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I hate this stupid war."

Saber growled at his comment and Harry realised his mistake. Servants had a reason for obeying their Masters, after all – they wanted a miracle, a granted wish by the Holy Grail. To Saber and others like her, this war was not stupid or meaningless – it was _everything_. Even Harry admitted that if he was able, he would seriously consider winning just so he could... what?

He didn't know. Become a real boy? Probably. If it truly was capable of granting _any_ wish...

Rin had stopped laughing but her lips were still pulled back in a mocking smile, the tiny laugh-lines around her eyes crinkled as she restrained herself.

"You really don't know, do you?" Harry remained silent. "This is great! She keeps you in the dark like an innocent child."

"Could you please tell Archer to hurry up and fire?" he asked gruffly. "I'd rather be dead than listen to you any longer."

Rin froze in shock, eyes wide. Shirou whipped around, searching frantically for the man who had nearly killed him the night before. Saber remained relatively impassive; the only clue that his words had affected her was the hardening of her eyes and her clenched fists. Harry smirked slightly, the faint presence on the edge of his senses moving position until he could no longer feel him. If they had been somewhere open, he would have been worried. The large trees of the forest provided an unintentional protection from long range attacks, if only by impeding Archer's view.

"Did you see anything else?" he resumed his questioning of Saber, seemingly unconcerned that he was targeted for death. Now that the young raven-haired magus was speechless, his mood was rapidly returning to normal.

"A man swearing some sort of unbreakable vow?" she queried, continuing at his nod. "He was with two women."

Serverus Snape. Narcissa Malfoy. Bellatrix Lestrange.

He was just as confused as before, when he had dreamt such things.

They weren't just _his_ memories that the small Servant had seen.

"Something isn't right." he whispered. Only Saber with her sharp hearing caught it.

"What is not right?"

Harry looked the petite knight up and down before answering.

"I wasn't there, was I? During the binding."

Saber's nose wrinkled cutely as she thought about what he said.

"...no, it was only those three and someone called Worm...tail?"

Harry nodded.

"So what does that mean?" Shirou spoke up for the first time, drawing the wizard's attention.

"It means I wasn't there." Harry explained, rubbing his neck. "And if I wasn't there, then that means they can't possibly be my memories, can they?"

A short silence engulfed them, until a blooming pain began to spread from Harry's forearm. He grit his teeth, startling the others present with his sudden sour look. Harry waved, turning on the spot.

"Master calls. See you around."

"Wait!" Rin called out but a sharp crack announced his exit, the Servant gone. Moments later, Archer appeared – long black bow in hand. He gazed at the recently vacated spot for a few seconds, before turning towards his Master.

"I could not get a good shot. I apologise, Master."

Saber moved, raising her invisible weapon from her waist but a firm hand placed on her shoulder halted her actions. She followed the arm and found Shirou, giving her a small shake of his head. She frowned but obeyed nonetheless, lowering her blade. Rin had grown rigid at the aggressive look on Saber's face, but now that she had been stood down by Shirou, a relaxed smirk graced her mouth.

"We really need to take care of Caster," she began, ignoring the smug look Archer was sending the tiny knight. "She is gathering power much too fast and with _Harry Potter_ on her side... it would be foolish to let them continue unopposed. The longer we wait, the more powerful they become."

"But how do we go about this?" Shirou questioned. "Even though Harry is a little odd, he isn't exactly useless. He was able to keep Saber back and from what we saw, didn't have much trouble with Rider."

Rin hummed thoughtfully.

"As much as it pains me to admit it, you're right." A look of mild distaste crossed her face at conceding that fact. "He is capable of things that would make him extremely powerful if he were a true magus. I've seen him teleport twice and it doesn't even seem to use much mana at all. It's insane."

"We could go after the teacher," Archer supplied, bow now absent. He crossed his arms over his armoured chest, a cocky look still directed at Saber. "He is their most vulnerable link."

Saber returned his look with a vicious glare but didn't say a word. Shirou shifted uneasily, the thought of attacking a person – and someone he knew – didn't sit well with him, even if they were a Master.

"Wait a second," Shirou gave Archer a strange look. "How do you know about Kuzuki-sensei?"

Rin waved it away. "I let him know – but that isn't important. It's possible that Caster or Kuzuki-sensei didn't notice us at the school. They were distracted after all. It might give us a chance."

"I guess school will be cancelled for awhile until they figure out what happened."

Rin grimaced, nodding at Shirou's words. "You wouldn't happen to know where he lives, would you?"

Shirou shook his head, no. Rin sighed, "I suppose we start there... oh!"

The sudden shout drew strange looks from Saber, Archer and Shirou. Rin flushed lightly under their combined effort.

"I have an idea," she admitted. "I have to go check on some things first, though. I'll meet you at your place tomorrow, okay Emiya-kun?"

"What about Rider?" Shirou asked as the Tohsaka heir prepared to depart, the crimson archer by her side. "Is she dead?"

Rin scowled. "Unfortunately no. She won't be bothering us for awhile, at least. I doubt she can do more than writhe in pain after what Saber did to her."

-x-**X**-x-

As soon as Harry appeared, he knew the following conversation was going to be painful. What he didn't know was if it would be literally or merely extremely stressful, thus painful for his brain. The emotionless expression on his Masters uncovered face – matched by that of Kuzuki, who stood beside her – gave nothing away.

"You called, Master?" he asked with as much respect as he could muster. He kept his eyes on Caster, preferring to ignore the teacher for the time being. This was the first time he had been called before his Master with Kuzuki present and that important fact did not escape him. Even so, he was bursting inside with questions but knew he had to wait for the perfect time. Rin's mocking laughter echoed in his mind, as did her words.

_That you are helping another Master try claim the grail, a Master who has no qualms with harming innocents._

"I did."

Harry shifted slightly at the silence.

"What can I do for you?"

Her head tilted to the right slightly. "You know of Souichirou-sama, of course."

Harry nodded slowly – a little unsure of where this was going, "I do. He is your Master, yet he is not a mage. It doesn't surprise me. Word of your upcoming marriage... now _that_ was surprising."

He should have known better to have attempted a joke. Tough crowd didn't even begin to describe the pair before him. Kuzuki didn't react in the slightest, his lean form towering over Harry by a few inches. Caster raised an eyebrow and that was it.

"You are correct. He is not a mage. But that does not make him any less dangerous."

Again, Harry nodded. "Rider was really struggling with him... ah."

Now he knew what this was about.

"I got in his way."

A tiny grin appeared on Caster's face as she raised one of her hands. Fingers together, she clicked them once – a bolt of intense pain rocketing through his body. Harry's jaw locked as every muscle in his body contracted in agony, the young man collapsing in a twitching heap. Panting harshly, he attempted to regain his footing when she clicked her fingers a second, third and fourth time. Each time, he convulsed like a dying fish, teeth clenched so hard that he was lucky they didn't crack.

Trembling, he propped himself on his hands and knees as she spoke.

"That is sufficient punishment for now."

For the first time since he had been summoned, he had the desire to see her broken. It was a fleeting thought, but there nonetheless – one that he quashed immediately. Nothing good ever happened when he started thinking that way, his tremulous past a prime example of this. Primal urges leashed for the time being, he answered softly.

"Yes, Master."

He had wanted to question her about his jumbled dreams. Being his Master and the one who summoned him, she could possibly have all the answers he needed to understand the situation. Yet after her little show of domination, he wasn't so sure he wanted to reveal what was on his mind. Truthfully, what little trust he held for her was now absent – the agonising shocks still running through his weary body brushing it aside like an unstable sandcastle, scattered to the winds.

But could he really figure it out on his own? Harry wasn't so sure.

And then there were Rin's words, again echoing in his mind.

_Your Master is a despicable being who harvests the life force of others._

Pieces were starting to fall into place, yet much too slowly.

"I am sorry you had to see this, Souichirou-sama."

Harry peered up through his messy hair, watching as Caster bowed slightly, hands clasped. Kuzuki nodded sharply, eyes still lingering on the downed Servant.

"I will leave the rest up to you."

That said the man left swiftly – his first words of the night being his last. Harry thought it fit what he knew of the man perfectly. Cold and aloof, he was not one to waste time; sharp, intelligent, he did not suffer fools lightly. The door shut with a click, leaving the two Servants alone.

Harry suddenly tensed as Caster approached with graceful strides, her silken robe rustling as she lowered herself, kneeling in front of him. A soft, warm hand cupped his cheek, her palm tracing his cheekbone gently. A second hand joined the first – only this one threaded its fingers through his raven black hair, occasionally retreating for fingertips to run over his jagged lightning bolt scar, a pleasant tingle pooling in the wizards stomach at the sensation.

His mind nearly shut down at the unexpected touch.

"Why must you make it hard on yourself?"

Harry shuddered as her nails lightly scratched his scalp, very nearly drawing a pleased hum from his lips.

"You disappoint me," she chided, focusing now on his scar – massaging the tender flesh. "I expected more of humanity's hope, but at the same time... you _are_ more. You surprise me."

He wanted to ask what she meant by humanity's hope, but nothing left his throat. He drowned in the feelings of warmth and contentment she showered him with, all with but her gentle touch. Her next words brought him back to reality with a harsh plummet.

"I want you to kill Rider."

Caster's hands retreated, resting modestly in her lap as she sat _seiza_-style. Attempting to compose himself, Harry propped himself up in a crouched position, removing his glasses and rubbing at his eyes wearily.

"You want me to kill Rider," he repeated, replacing his glasses. He stared at his Master curiously.

"Indeed." she confirmed, giving him a pointed look. "You are the reason she still lives, after all. It is only fitting that you correct this."

It had been an accident – and now knew _why_ apparating into homes directly was considered bad in his world; he could think of a host of things one would come across – but that didn't matter. He caused the problem, so now he was being told to fix it. Thinking on it, it probably wouldn't even be a difficult task either – Saber had nearly cleaved the beautiful woman in two. All he had to do was dispose of the scraps and that was that. The first Servant to fall in the war would be Rider.

Only... did he really want to kill her like this? If he was honest with himself, he wasn't so sure. In the heat of battle, he had no qualms with putting down another person with good reason – and he did have good reason, several in fact; one for every student she attempted to siphon dry. Cold blooded murder however... it never had been his area of expertise.

For the greater good, some would say. Harry felt like punching Dumbledore in the face at this moment.

Especially when he couldn't help but agree.

"Should I go now?" he asked, getting to his feet. Muscles no longer aching, he was hit with a small dose of fatigue nonetheless.

"Regain your strength first," she gave an obvious look toward his ring finger. "Then you hunt."

-x-**X**-x-

"Shinji."

The voice was soft, weary with age, issued from a hunched form hidden by shadow.

"What are you doing?"

Though weary, it was anything but weak – a certain maliciousness creeping into the words spoken, a certain power. It was the voice of someone in control – dominant. The young male form on the bed gave a visible start, head whipping around in shock.

"Wha... ojii-san!"

"Get off of her. You don't have time to play around."

Shinji obeyed instantly, a feminine whimper escaping from the sprawled form on his bed. He scowled down at Sakura before facing his grandfather nervously.

Matou Zouken didn't look like much at first glance. If one word were used to describe the man, it would be old – another used could perhaps be frail. Not even five foot tall, he was as un-intimidating as they come – that is, until you gazed into his eyes. Pools of inky black with hazy white pupils took in the world with an almost evil gleam, filled with an unknown, insatiable hunger. They peered out from sunken eye sockets, his head resembling a dried walnut more than anything else. Having lived longer than any human should, he looked emaciated – rotting from within – yet he held himself with dignity and strength, a sharp contradiction to the state of his body.

The power of magecraft was a glorious thing.

"O-Ojii-san, I was jus-"

"Yes, yes," Zouken interrupted, gesturing for his grandson to follow as he left the room. The blue haired boy scurried behind him obediently, ignoring his sister's weak attempts at covering herself with her torn shirt. "That can wait. We have things to discuss."

The pair shuffled down the hallway silently, entering through the last door on the right. The room was large but sparsely furnished, containing only a king size bed, a set of drawers and a full length mirror. Shinji shifted uncomfortably, having only entered this place only twice before in his entire life. His grandfather rarely let anyone inside his sanctuary and the lack of any personal details always unsettled the young Matou, even when he had been younger.

"Your Servant needs mana," Zouken began, giving his charge a long look. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I-I don't know..." Zouken glared then sighed.

"You are lucky this war is much too unpredictable to get involved in myself or I would strip you of your little book and take over." Shinji clenched his hands until his knuckles popped but said nothing, looking away in shame. "As it is, that _thing_ the witch on the mountain summoned throws up too many variables... no, I can wait until next time."

"Next time?" Shinji questioned lightly.

"That isn't important, child." he lectured. "But its time you start acting like a true Master, a Matou Master. Understand?"

The boy flinched at the harsh tone. "Yes, ojii-san."

"Now then, what are you going to do?"

Brows drawn together in a frown, the younger of the two thought long and hard about his next move. While he wasn't the smartest person around and had a horrendous temper that often clouded his judgement, Shinji _could_ use his brain when the need arose and focus on a goal, as was shown in the few classes at school he actually enjoyed. This also applied to the Archery Club he was a member of, as he didn't become vice captain for nothing.

He was not in the same class as Emiya when it came to the ancient discipline or even Mitsuzuri Ayako – the clubs captain – but he more than held his own...

He blinked, a terrible smile crossing his features. Zouken watched this happen impassively.

"Worked something out, have you?"

"Yes, I believe so," he replied smugly, glancing over at the covered window. The sun was still out but it would only be a couple hours at most until the city would be bathed in darkness. "But it'll have to wait until tonight."

"Do tell, grandson," Zouken prompted. "I am curious."

Shinji opened his mouth, ready to reveal his grand plans when without warning, Zouken stepped back and struck at the wall in with fluid motion. The sound of his palm slapping against the wall caused the young student to jump, shooting his grandfather a worried look as the elderly man inspected his handy work.

"A familiar," the old mage explained, showing Shinji the smear of blood that now stained his wrinkled palm. "Quite crafty, using an insect. Someone is watching me, it seems. Interesting."

"Do you know who it could be?" Shinji asked, glancing around the room with a suspicious eye. The idea that someone could be watching him at all times set him on edge, a light sweat forming on his brow. He had read all about the different types of familiar a mage could control, yet never stopped to think that someone may employ such a tactic against him.

"I have a few ideas," was the vague response. "But it matters not. Keep your plan to yourself. I doubt that was the only bug lurking around here and we don't want other people to know, do we now?"

-x-**X**-x-

Kotomine Kirei grimaced as the last thing he witnessed in the Matou household was the giant, age-ravaged hand of Zouken, moments before his familiar was smeared from existence. With a heavy sigh, the man stepped out of the confessional he had been seated in, idly brushing imaginary dirt from the sleeves of his purple coat. Dressed in simple black slacks, shoes and button up shirt, the dark purple knee-length coat was the only thing that gave off any semblance of colour – which wasn't much at all.

Ordinary brown hair and dull, listless brown eyes enforced his dreary appearance. If it wasn't for the large golden crucifix that rested against his breast, you'd think the man absorbed all manner of light with just his presence.

Giving the empty church a brief inspection, he wandered toward the altar, idly rubbing his hand across the smooth, well worn wood.

Kotomine Kirei was a simple man whom led a complicated existence. As a priest and a member of the Catholic Church he had been picked to oversee the battle royal known as the Holy Grail War, in a joint venture between the Church and the Mages Association – two organizations that barely tolerated the other. In the best interests of both groups, they learned to get along and play nice when needed despite all the politics that were no doubt involved.

If being a priest overseeing a magical war wasn't complicated enough, in an odd twist, Kotomine also happened to be a magus – one also employed by the Mages Association, one that had taken part in the previous war, all of ten years ago. Plainly, he was a man of many talents.

His job as mediator of the war was fairly straightforward. The most important part of his job was to keep the existence of magic a secret from the general populace, through any means necessary – something that both the Church and the Mages Association greatly desired above all else, where there was no conflict of interest. If that meant taking down each Master one by one until no one remained, it was within his right to do so. He was also to advise any Master that came seeking information at the start of the war – something that had already long passed. He was also to shelter any Master whom required it after losing his or her Servant in the resulting chaos.

So far, no one had approached him for sanctuary. Not yet, at any rate.

The latest battle that had occurred was sure to draw attention but it was nothing to worry about. The destruction of school property and the hospitalization of the entire student body would make the news, but like normal, it would be blamed on something else. Kotomine made sure of that. It would be the first reported case of the mysterious gas leaks plaguing the city to occur outside of Shinto.

For the time being, he was doing his job splendidly.

But he wasn't one to play by the rules.

"Are you done already?" a male voice sounded, arrogant and proud. "That was rather fast, Kirei."

The priest didn't bother turning around. "I was discovered. There is no point in trying again."

A sinister chuckle filled the halls, one of the many benches creaking as the figure took a seat. "You're losing your touch."

"Maybe."

Silence fell.

"Where have you been?" Kotomine questioned lightly, reaching into a pocket and retrieving a small lighter. Striding over to a row of candles, he began methodically lighting each one with well practised movements. It would soon be night fall.

"I was bored, so I went for a walk." The figure answered, crossing their legs and reclining against the backrest. "What I found intrigues me."

"Oh?"

Finished with the candles, Kotomine finally faced his companion. A well placed shadow from one of the rafters shielded his face from view, but Kotomine could easily see the sandy blonde hair and angular jaw line. The crossed legs were clad in simple black pants, his torso covered by a white button up shirt and a black jacket, open casually in the front. Several buttons of the shirt were undone, showing the beginnings of a muscular chest.

A hint of excitement filled the mystery-mans voice. "The doll summoned a demi-god."

"Hercules," Kotomine confirmed. "Quite the hero."

"And _she_ is back."

Whoever it was that the man referred too, Kotomine obviously knew who it was. "Ah, I see what you've been doing. How long have you been watching her?"

"You know me too well," was his reply. "One must look after their property, after all. She is _mine_."

Kotomine grinned slightly, hands clasped behind his back. "Then you saw Harry Potter."

Instantly, the temperature changed – where once the room was mildly chilly, now it was downright frigid. An intense presence filled the room, broiling and churning wildly with undefined, negative emotions. Anyone else would have choked on this feeling of impending doom, drowned in the wave of pure intent. Kotomine merely quirked an eyebrow in question – a rare showing of his surprise.

"That piece of shit," the man spat, the tense feeling increasing. "A fairy tale of humanity. I've seen what people think of this _hero_. Bah! When the time comes, I will show him his place – at my feet, broken."

"My, my," Kotomine chided. "Aren't you getting all worked up…"

"Fakers annoy me," and as if nothing had even occurred, the atmosphere returned to normal, the voice calm and haughty once more. "And I don't like the interest he has shown in _my_ property. Insolent whelp, I'll enjoy tearing him limb from limb."


	9. Chapter 9

-x-**X**-x- Day Six -x-**X**-x-

The Matou household was truly impressive, if a little on the creepy side. Briefly, Harry envisioned himself as Sherlock Holmes, an amused smirk stretching his lips as he observed the property in the pitch black of night. He felt like a detective of old, staking out a location for surveillance. Contemplating whether he should transfigure himself a detectives cap and magnifying glass just for the hell of it, he took his first few steps toward the front door.

A rash move, but properly covered head to toe by one of the Deathly Hallows – his Cloak of Invisibility, said to be capable of hiding the wearer from Death itself – he didn't have to worry about being spotted. He doubted even the enhanced senses of a Servant would be able to discern his location unless he practically bumped into them, which he couldn't say for the disillusionment charm. Distance was key.

The mana drain was manageable. Unlike the last time he had employed the cloaks use, he had far more energy to work with – thanks to the Resurrection Stone.

Taking in the old stonework, he admired the western mansion for a few moments. It was large, two stories tall and surrounded by gnarled, leafless trees that rattled in the wind, knotted branches scrapping against the exterior eerily. Just by looking at it, Harry could tell the house had stood for more than a century, easily; perhaps even two or three. The diverse culture of Fuyuki City struck him once more, for he felt like he was not in Japan, but in England – his homeland.

Magic permeated the air, a barrier encircling the property. He wasn't sure what it did but it didn't have the perverse, malicious aura of the one Rider had erected on the school grounds. Thus he was unworried, confident that his cloak had protected him from whatever properties it contained.

_Probably detection,_ he reasoned.

Waving the Elder Wand, he heard the front door click as it unlocked. Another deft wave and it opened silently, inviting him inside.

Caster had supplied the location of the Matou residence, once more showing Harry that she knew more than she let on. It was the logical place to search, though Harry felt they might be long gone – that is, if the cowardly Master had any shred of sense. It would be unwise to stay at such an obvious place, especially when two of his classmates happened to be Master's also. While Harry hadn't known Shinji's last name until it had been revealed to him by Caster, the two students wouldn't have any such trouble finding their way here – even if they didn't know where he lived beforehand.

Then again, Harry had other means of finding people.

Entering the foyer, he felt a secondary barrier wash over him. This one was more potent than the first, but he remained unconcerned. Glancing around the dark room, he spied a wide staircase and several doors leading to other sections of the house. It was silent, unnaturally so – the creaking trees and gusting wind of the early morning cut off completely. A dull ringing filled his ears, the result of no sound at all from his surroundings. His breathing felt abnormally loud in such an environment.

Closing his eyes, he briefly reached out with his senses but could not feel another Servant nearby. Opening them, he moved on – scaling the stairs like a seasoned pro. He was fairly sure they weren't here now, but he wanted to make sure.

Reaching the top, he looked both ways, the hallway stretching out in both directions. Choosing to go left for no discernible reason, he idly flicked his wand as he passed each door. They opened soundlessly as he walked, the fictional hero peeking through each portal as he wandered by. Finding nothing of note, they would close just as carefully, soft clicks filling the void of sound. It wasn't until he approached the end that he found something at all.

Or rather, some_one_.

"W-Who's there?" a timid voice called, a mop of purple hair appearing as a young girl sat up, illuminated by the small digital clock on her bedside table. She was clutching a thick blanket to her chest, eyes locked on the previously closed door to her bedroom. Harry watched as she trembled, her attractive face showing nothing but fear. "Nii-san?"

Harry frowned, not liking the way her voice cracked. It was then that he felt the familiar aura of a magus radiating from the scared girl in waves.

Quickly deciding, he waved the door shut and tore the cloak from his body – revealing himself. She gasped in fright, jerking back against the wall as he hastily placed a single finger over his lips in an attempt to keep her quiet with the universal sign for 'shush'. She paused, eying him warily as he found and flicked the light switch, the room now bathed in a warm glow. He watched her eyes contract from the sudden brightness before focusing on him with surprising intensity, soft lavender meeting emerald green.

"You're one of them, aren't you?" she asked quietly, appraising his clothing – wizard's robes – and the wand he still held in hand. He remained still as she observed him, her scrutiny faltering as she reached his forehead.

"Y-You... wha..." she tried to speak, tongue tied at the sight of his scar. Harry smiled ruefully.

"Yes." he replied simply.

"But how...?"

"My Master is... creative."

They stared at each other for a moment.

"What are you doing here?"

Now that was the question, wasn't it?

Harry moved, approaching the young girl and seating himself on the end of her bed. She shuffled away nervously, glancing away as she pulled the blanket around herself tighter.

"What's your name?" he asked instead, placing the invisibility cloak on the bed beside him. She hesitated for a moment before giving a resigned sigh.

"Matou Sakura."

_Pretty name,_ Harry thought.

"Shinji is your brother, then?"

Sakura nodded, looking down at the bed sheets. Harry hummed, wondering why the magic-less child Shinji was the Master while Sakura – an obvious magus if there ever was one, she was one of the more powerful he had come across – was not. Wait, that wasn't quite right. It wasn't power he was feeling – not only that, anyway. There was something else...

"Do you know where he is?"

"Why?"

The question snapped out like the crack of a whip. Harry blinked in surprise as he studied Sakura carefully as she went from vulnerable to... he wasn't sure. Defiant?

"He hurt a lot of people yesterday," Harry told her frankly. "He needs to be stopped before he tries again."

Sakura looked away again, indecision written all over her face. "Nii-san isn't... a bad person."

Harry wondered if she truly believed that. She didn't sound to convincing to his ears.

"Regardless," Harry pressed on. "At least tell me where his Servant may be hiding. And don't pretend you don't know about her. You pegged what I was the moment you saw me."

Sakura clammed up immediately, much to his frustration. He tried several more times, yet the girl refused to answer. There was a strong possibility that she didn't know where Rider was, but he had no way of telling. Well, that wasn't entirely accurate. He toyed with the idea of using Legilimency and attempting to divine the Servants location from the girl's memories, but decided that wasn't the safest thing to do.

Look what happened the last time he used that spell.

While Sakura wasn't another heroic spirit, she wasn't exactly a normal person either. And he wasn't even sure what would happen if he attempted it on a magus – they were much too different from the witches and wizards of his world to even compare. Using it impulsively like he had with Saber taught him he had to be careful with things like that.

It was a stupid mistake. One he didn't want to repeat.

There were other options, other avenues.

Veritaserum came to mind – the most powerful truth serum ever created. The colourless, odourless potion would force the drinker to tell the truth. It wasn't foolproof, but Harry was confident that the girl in front of him had no way of overcoming such a potent brew.

Too bad he didn't have any.

He doubted this world even had the correct ingredients to create such a thing, either.

Then there was the Imperius Curse, one of the three Unforgivable Curses, this spell was capable of completely commanding a victim of the caster, who can make the victim do anything the they wish. This included the divulging of certain secrets, if the casters willpower was stronger than the one he or she was attempting to control.

But looking at Sakura – timid, withdrawn, but attempting to be strong – Harry knew he could never cast that particular curse on her. Not as she was.

It just wasn't in him.

"Even after everything I've said, you still won't tell me, will you?" Harry asked tiredly. "You're protecting your family. I can understand that."

Again, he felt for the presence of Rider but got nothing. The house was empty, bar the two of the-Wait a second.

Harry tilted his head, unsure. Sakura looked on, neither confirming nor denying what he said. She knew she didn't have too.

"Do you have a basement?" Sakura started at the random, off-topic question before a feeling of dread filled her. "It feels like there is something… wiggling underneath us."

"Please leave." she muttered. Harry observed her for a moment, catching the brief flash of panic that crossed her face.

"Are you okay?" he asked kindly, worried that he had unintentionally said something wrong.

Sakura repeated her request a little firmer, confirming his fears somewhat. Thinking about it, he made a split second decision. He knew she wouldn't accept any help from him, at least not directly. And truth be told, he didn't even know what he could possibly do to help – or what he was even helping with, for that matter. All he knew was whatever it was he felt in the ground, it spooked the girl enough for him to see.

Caster wouldn't be happy.

But he was beyond caring about that.

Reaching out, he grabbed the nearest thing to him – a small stuffed animal, modelled in the likeness of a seal. He admired the large, overly cute eyes and button nose, running his fingers over the soft fabric it was crafted out of. Giving it a squeeze, he hummed thoughtfully.

"What are you doing?" Sakura asked, surprised at his odd actions. Surprise turned to fear as he raised his wand, which soon abated as instead of turning the foci on her, he tapped the small seal plushie on the head while intoning softly.

"_Portus._"

Harry panted as a large portion of his mana was expelled, but it was to be expected of such a spell. The toy flashed a brilliant white for a heartbeat, before returning to normal.

"Wh-What did you jus-"

"It's called a portkey," he told her, holding it out for her after a short inspection. She stared at it unmoving. "It isn't dangerous. Far from it, in fact."

Slowly, demurely, she reached out and snatched the toy from his grasp, the blanket slipping from her shoulders slightly. He caught nothing more than a brief flash of skin before she shielded herself once more. He blinked.

Had he just seen-?

"What does it do?"

Standing, Harry donned his cloak in the process. Sakura looked uneasy as all that remained was a floating head, bobbing through the air as he made his way toward the exit. He paused then, flicking the light switch and returning the room to darkness. She was about to call out to him again when he answered.

"If you're ever in danger, for whatever reason... just say my name while touching that toy. Trust me."

Then he left.

The rest of the house was empty, much to Harry's annoyance. Searched with both sight and probed with his magic, Rider or Shinji were nowhere to be found. The only place he didn't venture was the basement, for the strange, wriggling – _foul_ – sensations he got when he probed and Sakura's strange reaction to the place was enough to keep him away. He didn't want to know what was going on down there. As his prey weren't located there, he felt assured in leaving that room untouched for the time being.

Crossing the outer boundary field, he thought about his next move.

It was going to be a long night.

_And why – why in the bloody hell – did Sakura have Command Seals?_

-x-**X**-x-

Shinji snickered softly, a truly demented smile crossing his face as he watched from the shadows. Before him were the forms of Rider and her latest victim, sprawled out on the single bed like entangled lovers. The Servant's shoulders trembled in pain, yet her lips never left her preys neck as she drank deeply – blood coursing down her throat in thick, coppery mouthfuls.

"Don't take to much," Shinji reminded her, still smiling. Truth be told, he was a little turned on at the sight – his beautiful familiar draped over the body of another very attractive girl, sucking on her neck as they embraced. "We don't want to attract attention."

Reluctantly, she complied. Rider groaned, soft tongue darting out and circling her lush lips, collecting all the blood she could.

"Don't sound so disappointed," he chided, checking on her injury. It was far from healed, but it was no longer bleeding. It was a start. "You have plenty of food here."

In saying that, he glanced at the other beds occupying the room. Four in total, yet only three of the beds were currently in use.

"Take your time. We have all night."

-x-**X**-x-

Shirou blinked.

And blinked.

And blinked.

Rin scowled, "What?"

The pair were seated in the Emiya household, a traditional Japanese property of old. Unlike the western manors of Tohsaka and Matou, it was built _out_ instead of _up_. Dozens of guestrooms littered the long halls, polished floorboards gleaming underfoot as a tall boundary wall encircled the spacious property. It had everything a house should – kitchen, bathroom – and a few things that weren't required, but added flavour – like a dojo. All in all, it was very impressive. They simply didn't make houses like that in this day and age – at least, not without a lot of money and a good plot of land.

While the two magus idly picked at the plethora of food weighing the low table down, Saber was doing her level best to inhale as much of it as possible. Shirou ignored the sound of food _not_ being chewed properly – as he found it rather disturbing, especially coming from a girl so _tiny_ – and instead focused on the pile of books sitting in front of the school idol. There were seven in total, all bearing a familiar name.

"Emiya-kun!" Rin snapped.

"You want us to read... these."

"Now you're getting it."

"But why?"

The twin-tailed magus groaned, slapping the table in irritation. "Why else? To find his weakness, of course."

Shirou reached across the table and picked up the upper-most book in the pile. It read 'Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone' and had a very odd drawing on the front cover. He waved it through the air and gestured to the rest of the books.

"Where did you get these, anyway? I mean, a few of them look brand new... but this one looks old and well re-"

Without warning, Rin snatched it out of his hand with a blush. "S-Shut it,"

An awkward silence followed.

"Oh," Shirou muttered, trying not to smile. Rin glared. Saber continued to shovel food down her throat.

"So," the ginger-haired male coughed, picking up a second book. "We read all of these, looking for clues?"

"Exactly."

"Do you really think we will find anything?" Shirou asked doubtfully, flicking through a few pages.

"It's all we have," Rin reminded him. "This is his entire _legend_, right here. I'll take anything we can get to make the assault of the temple easier. Caster needs to be stopped as quickly as possible."

Shirou nodded. "Yeah, you're right. But..." he hesitated.

"What is it?"

"He is worried about Shinji and Rider," Saber spoke up, finally taking a break in her vicious consumption of food. She smiled somewhat goofily at the two, despite the seriousness of the matter. Shirou looked away at the adorable sight.

"Don't worry about that, Emiya-kun." Rin assured the boy. "Like I told you yesterday, Caster is the biggest threat right now. But to be safe, I have Archer on the lookout for the two of them while he attempts to track down Kuzuki-sensei."

While Archer wasn't his favourite person in the world, he knew there was no better person to have on the case. "Okay, that's good enough."

"Before we start, though…" here she turned toward Saber. "Did you experience another dream last night?"

"I did." Saber replied, now looking solemn. That got Shirou's attention. Why hadn't she mentioned it earlier?

"Really?" Shirou asked interestedly. "What happened?"

She took a few seconds to gather herself.

"Harry was frozen by magecraft," she began, not noticing the strange looks she received in using the fictional hero's first name so familiarly. The both of them had used it in the past, yet not with any sort of... attachment. Saber sounded almost sad when she mentioned him. "They were in a castle, in one of the upper most spires. There was an old man with him, I believe his name was Dumble...Dumbledore, I think. Harry was hidden under some type of invisibility cloak while men in black robes stormed the room. Men, women... there was even a blonde child. From the way he was speaking, he was tasked with killing the old man..."

She paused, thinking about the strange dream in detail.

_A lumpy-looking man with an odd lopsided leer gave a wheezy giggle. Below average in height and looks, he looked menacing in the green glow emanating from above. Saber glanced up, spying the massive projection in the sky – a human skull with a snake for a tongue, coiling dangerously._

"_Dumbledore cornered!" he said, and he turned to a stocky little woman who looked as though she could be his sister and who was grinning eagerly in anticipation. "Dumbledore wandless, Dumbledore alone! Well done, Draco, well done!"_

"_Good evening, Amycus," Dumbledore greeted calmly, as though welcoming the man to a tea party. "And you've brought Alecto too... charming..."_

_The woman gave an angry little titter._

"They were enemies of Dumbledore, sent to assist the child in his task. Four of them... one looked more like a beast than a man."

Saber went silent, staring at the table. Rin and Shirou shared a look of concern.

"Saber, are yo-"

"Another man appeared," she continued, still face down. Shirou closed his mouth, listening intently. "His name was... Severus."

"_Draco, do it, or stand aside so one of us-" screeched the woman called Alecto but at that precise moment the door to the ramparts burst open and there stood a dark, imposing man, his wand clutched in his hand as his black eyes swept the scene, from Dumbledore slumped against the wall, to the four dark robed individuals including the beast-like man, and the blonde child Draco._

"_We've got a problem, Snape," said the lumpy Amycus, whose eyes and wand were fixed alike upon Dumbledore, "the boy doesn't seem able-"_

_But somebody else had spoken Snape's name, quite softly._

"_Severus..."_

_It was the brittle, fading voice of Dumbledore. Saber watched as the man went from calmly defiant to pleading, a stark contrast._

_Snape said nothing but walked forwards and pushed the blonde child roughly out of the way. The four others fell back without a word._ _Snape gazed for a moment at Dumbledore, and there was revulsion and hatred etched in the harsh lines of his pale, shallow face._

"_Severus... please..."_

_Snape raised his wand and pointed it directly at Dumbledore._

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

_A jet of green light shot from the end of Snape's wand and hit Dumbledore squarely in the chest, the swiftness of the act catching the knight off guard. She watched wide-eyed as Dumbledore was blasted into the air; for a split second he seemed to hang suspended beneath the shining skull, and then he fell slowly backwards, like a great rag doll, over the battlements and out of sight._

Rin and Shirou stared as Saber finished. Unknown to them, she had left out the last part – where Harry had torn off the cloak, his face twisted in a mask of pain and pure, unadulterated rage as he attacked one of the fleeing men. For some reason, she didn't feel like talking about that.

It was too... personal.

She wasn't sure why she cared.

"That cloak is probably one of his noble phantasms." Rin commented, focusing on that. "It's one of his most prized possessions."

Shirou agreed with a nod, before frowning in puzzlement. "Wait a moment... how do you know th-"

"Argh!"

Saber hid a smile at the embarrassed look on the raven-haired girls face.

"You don't have to feel ashamed, Tohsaka," Shirou said, eating a few bites of a food. He ignored her fierce glare that promised endless pain if he continued. "It's a popular series, even here in Japan."

Rin didn't respond. Shirou took a closer look at the books. Three of them looked old, worn with age and use. He wasn't the sharpest person around, but it was obvious that those three books had belonged to Rin for a long time – perhaps she had been a fan, once upon a time. For whatever reason, it was no longer the case. Her reaction to Harry Potter being summoned was proof enough of that... but why? He wanted to know – her explanation on the roof of the school had been pretty vague – but didn't bother asking.

It wasn't the right time. He'd get nothing but being potentially murdered if he asked that question right now, with how sour she looked.

"He is an odd choice," Saber gazed out the window with a strange look. "For Caster, do you not think?"

"He's an odd choice for anyone," Rin muttered, playing with her rice.

"I think Saber is on to something," Shirou said. "I mean, how would Caster even know about Harry Potter? You don't think she read the books, do you?"

"But why would she do such a thing?" questioned Saber, tilting her head. "It does not make sense."

"Nothing about this war makes sense anymore," Rin groused. "Stupid wizard."

Shirou thought she sounded incredibly cute by being so childish, but kept that to himself. He wanted to keep his face, thank you very much.

"How is Taiga, Shirou?" Saber suddenly asked, referring to Shirou's clumsy, somewhat childish quasi-sister who also happened to be Rin and Shirou's English teacher at school. "She did not come around this morning."

Rin looked up from her bowl, interested. Shirou finished off his portion before replying.

"She's doing fine; I got a call from her earlier. Apparently, she was running errands in Shinto when Rider activated her Noble Phantasm so she wasn't affected at all. She's been visiting all the hospitals in town, checking in on all the students."

"How are they doing?" Rin asked, curious.

"Some of them have already been discharged," he explained. "But some of the more healthy ones have gotten worse, for some reason. They can't explain it."

"Worse?" Rin sounded surprised.

"Yeah. They were going to be released today but now they are keeping them there for further tests." Shirou shrugged. "The ones most affected by the boundary field seem to be recovering, though..."

The two Masters contemplated the possible meaning behind their classmates declining health, thus completely missing a sly Saber snatching Philosopher's Stone from the table and prying open the first page, an expectant look on her lovely face.

-x-**X**-x-

If there was one thing that everyone – and it can't be stressed enough that everyone means _everyone_ – should be aware of in this Holy Grail War, it's this...

A bored Illyasviel von Einzbern is a dangerous Illyasviel von Einzbern.

That said, the cute little pixie pouted, idly playing with her silvery white hair as the ground trembled beneath her tiny feet. Like most things below her station, she ignored it completely as she hummed a little tune to herself, something she had heard on the radio only briefly. Buffing her pretty little nails against her purple coat – one of her maids having painted them just this morning, and of course they were _purple_ – she smiled impishly while flexing her fingers. This lasted a few moments, before she let loose a sigh of annoyance.

Yep.

She was bored.

A tree fell, followed by another and another – the sharp crack of splintering wood echoing through the enclosure. Yawning cutely, Illya crossed her legs as she seated herself on the ground. Chin in hand, her elbow rested in a propped up position against her knee. The expression on her face could be summed up in one word.

Disinterested.

"What's taking you so long, Berserker?" she asked, nearly losing her balance as the ground resumed trembling. "Just squish him already."

An enraged roar blew through the air, a blue blur exiting the tree line moments before the behemoth known as Hercules trampled said trees like they were matchsticks. Bulging, corded muscle moved with incredible speed, Berserker's giant axe-like slab of stone howling as he swung it down. The blue blur was nothing if not agile, twisting around and away from the hulking brute moments before the ground caved under the Servant's magnificent strength.

Another roar and another swing followed with similar results. This time, the blur attempted to counter attack. A long, crimson spear flashed into existence and struck like a viper, looking for a quick kill. The incredibly sharp blade dug into flesh like-

No it didn't.

It bounced off like it was made of foam, for all the good it did.

"You really are a monster," the blur – now known as Lancer – snarled, leaping away from his towering opponent.

There were few heroes in the history of the world that enjoyed a good fight more than Lancer. If he was to have a wish, it would probably include fighting, fighting and more fighting – for that is where he belonged and truly shined.

But even he had his limits.

"This is ridiculous," the blue knight muttered, inches from losing his life. Gale force winds battered against his lean frame as he avoided the axe-slab, thrusting his spear at Berserker's face. Like before, it did nothing more than spark as it connected with bronze skin. "What the hell are you made out of?"

"Teehee," Illya giggled, mildly amused by the spearman's words. However, her amusement lasted a breath. The little girl huffed as he continued to dodge, leaping up into the surrounding foliage – buying precious seconds. Berserker toppled the trees, swinging his weapon wildly as he attempted to utterly annihilate the other heroic spirit.

Illya suddenly sat up straighter, hands falling into her lap as a feeling of malice and killer intent flooded the area. Berserker either didn't feel it or didn't care, barrelling towards Lancer as he leapt from his perch, crimson spear alight – pulsing with dark intentions. The lithe hero flipped over his hulking opponent – narrowly avoiding decapitation – and spun on the spot, thrusting his shining lance with everything he had into the behemoths back.

"Gáe Bolg!" he screamed, face twisted with a blood thirsty grin.

Lancer's weapon, the Gáe Bolg, is a cursed spear which is said to inflict wounds that do not heal as long as the spear remains in the world unless confronted with superior healing magic. The weapon itself has two main techniques which can be classified as separate Noble Phantasms, one of which he was invoking against the mighty Hercules.

A vicious, otherworldly technique that reversed causality, it made the thrusting of the spear a mere formality as the lance has already hit the heart before it is thrust, a truly terrifying prospect. It was a technique that almost guaranteed victory, as it was impossible to dodge, let alone block – for the cause is that "the heart is pierced" and the effect is that "the spear is thrust", happening in reverse.

With a screech, the blade impacted against the impossibly hard skin of Berserker, splitting it like butter as the spear tip found its targ-

No it didn't.

Bellowing in rage, Berserker's forearm crashed against Lancer's breastplate as he turned to face the spear wielding man, the armour cracking as the blue knight was lifted off his feet with incredible force. Grunting in pain, he could do nothing as he crashed into – and through – the trunk of a nearby pine, blood spraying from his mouth at the double impact. He hit the ground hard, tumbling end over end, finally coming to stop twenty or so meters away.

He was a mess.

"W-What..." he whispered in disbelief at his failed attack, choking on the blood that pooled in the back of his throat. It felt like his entire ribcage had been caved in by the blow, as unintentional as it had been. Truly, the strength of a demi-god was an amazing thing. "G-God damn it,"

Illya sagged in disappointment. "Aww, and I really thought he was going to take a life then."

Berserker remained where he was, a steady rumble issued from his throat as the monstrosity panted harshly. Illya waved her hand, about to issue the kill command – not that he really needed it – when the blue Servant vanished bit by bit, reverting to spirit form to recover from his injuries. Illya blinked, before scowling.

"Hey!" she called. "That's cheating!"

It wasn't. Not really. But she hated it when people got away.

Letting out a long sigh, she climbed to her feet. Berserker lumbered his way over, standing by her side protectively. Normally, she would allow the giant Servant to carry her, but she wasn't exactly happy with him right now.

"You let him get away," she whined childishly, stamping her foot. Like always, he didn't reply. "And you nearly let Rider get me... if it wasn't for Harry..."

She remembered their first meeting and how nice he was to her, talking with her and showing her his own brand of magic. Where she revealed more than she ever thought she could to another person, briefly about her parents and about her life. She then remembered the warmth of his arms, wrapped tenderly around her slender waist; his soft smile as he gazed down at her, worried for her as he protected her from Rider, saving her from certain death.

Illya patted her rosy cheeks with an embarrassed giggle, glad he wasn't around to see her. She wanted him so bad it hurt. She hadn't wanted anything so badly in her life and it was driving her insane. Ever since she had read his life story in book form, she had been a hardcore fan and instantly hooked by his characters noble traits, despite his harsh life. Not even her sheltered childhood could prevent her from getting her hands on the books, for even her cold, uncaring family saw fit to indulge her once in awhile, to keep her happy and thus cooperative.

It was a little known fact that she _loved_ to read. She didn't even want to think about a world where she hadn't become mildly curious about a set of books – incomplete at the time – written by an author she hadn't heard of before.

And now _he_ was _here_ because of some crazy magus Servant who wanted to cheat with her own little guardian and _he_ was _alive_ – or as alive as he could be – and she could talk to _him_, play with _him_, _be with him-_

_I already have a Master. _

The girl went from giddy to seething in a heart beat, a scowl marring her delicate features.

Oh, how she wanted to kill that witch up on the mountain. She was the only thing standing between her and Harry. He was too loyal to betray her, something that frustrated her – yet it was something she loved about him, wished with all her heart that he would feel that kind of loyalty to _her_. No, Harry would never turn on Caster, not unless she gave him a real reason too.

So Illya knew what she had to do.

The attack at the school had been a failure. Her target hadn't even been there – a fake, a _shadow__**.**_

But this time... this time, she could get what she wanted.

And what she wanted... was Harry Potter. Caster was going down.

_You are mine._

-x-**X**-x-

**AN: **I was going to say something here but now I've forgotten what it was. Great, right? Anyway, unbeta'ed like always. I hope you enjoy it.

Anyway, have a happy new year and all that. See you guys next year.


	10. Chapter 10

Harry glared at the pavement, running a hand through his hair in agitation.

When he had originally set out on his quest to find Rider, he'd thought he would be done before daylight even thought about crossing the horizon. Unfortunately for him, his initial estimate had been way off. It was now closer to noon than dawn and he hadn't found a single clue as to the violet Servant's whereabouts.

It was starting to drive the fictional hero barmy.

After leaving Sakura and the Matou household, he had made a beeline for the now damaged Homurabara Gakuen. Hoping that the pair had returned to the scene of their crime, he had no such luck. Police tape enclosed the institute on all sides, while temporary lighting revealed the true extent of the damage rendered by Berserker, Rider, Saber and himself. Shuffling through the wreckage, all he found were the broken remnants of his phoenix feather wand, which he pocketed for safe keeping.

The obvious next step had been to use his long range scanning technique – feeling for known magic in the environment around him. That got him absolutely no where. As a matter of fact, the only Servants he had been able to identify were Archer – whom at the beginning had been somewhere in the western housing district but as the night became day, began moving; combing the city much like he himself was doing, his location constantly changing in an extremely dizzying crisscross pattern – and Saber, who was stationary somewhere in the Japanese housing district. Everyone else had vanished. Trying to find their Master's resulted in the same thing.

He could account for Rin and Shirou – barely – but no one else.

That was, until he happened upon a bounded field that covered the entirety of a forest. It was located on the outskirts of Shinto and was the primary reason he hadn't been able to track Illya or Berserker in the first place. Upon this discovery – and it hadn't been until he crossed the boundary that he realised just _who_ resided within – he had beat a hasty retreat. He was no coward, but he wasn't stupid. He had no reason to start such a fight on an opponent's home field, not when they weren't even his targets to begin with.

At least he knew now where they stationed themselves for future reference.

The rest of the early morning had played out in a similar fashion, until he felt like ripping handfuls of hair out in frustration.

It was time for a break.

He slowed before coming to a complete stop, looking out over the water of the Miyamachou River. He was halfway across the Fuyuki Bridge, having doubled back with intentions of checking out the Matou household once more. Perhaps they had returned? Probably not, but he was running out of ideas.

Leaning against the rustic red railing, he took a moment to admire the view... before sighing in annoyance.

"What do _you_ want?" he asked, seemingly talking to nothing but air. A mocking chuckle answered him from above.

"Aren't we in a bad mood today?" the unmistakable voice of Archer questioned. The wizard looked up, spying the tall Servant amongst the support beam girders. He was seated casually, one leg dangling freely as he leaned back against one of the many steal columns. As was typical, he looked entirely too smug for Harry's liking. Briefly, he imagined Draco Malfoy in place of the crimson knight. That brought a rather amused smirk to his face, causing Archer to narrow his eyes. "What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing," Harry waved him off, turning against the railing so his back was facing the water, elbows propped against it. "Looking for someone?" he inquired, shooting him a knowing look.

"You could say that," Archer replied. "Same as you, I suspect."

"Hm."

They became silent, eying each other as cars rumbled by.

"I'm surprised Caster lets you out as much as she does," Archer admitted, smiling wickedly. "Dogs normally stay close to their masters."

Harry snorted, tempted to give him the two-finger salute.

"Tried to kill any of your allies lately?" he quipped instead.

"He is no ally of mine."

Harry hummed. "I see. Rin must find her Servant very troublesome. Such insolence."

"Like you're much better, wizard. I see the conflict inside you even now." Archer shook his head slowly, eyes cold. "No wonder she keeps you in the dark about her activities. She's worried that her dog will bite the hand that feeds him."

Harry glared. "What the hell are you talking about?"

But he knew exactly what he was getting at. He remembered Rin's words clear as day and the conviction in her voice as she said them. The power build-up on the temple grounds only encouraged such theories.

"Playing stupid doesn't suit you," Archer was now standing but he still remained unarmed – for the moment. "How long will you continue to overlook what she is doing? From what I know about you, your behaviour is highly irregular."

Harry wanted to snap at him, wanted to ask how he knew anything about him at all – but that was a rather stupid question, wasn't it? Pick up a few books and everything was there, laid bare for the world to see. Instead, he turned away, facing the water and glancing out over the far off horizon.

"Why did you try to kill Shirou?" he asked out of the blue.

"Why do you care?"

"You are avoiding the question."

"So I am."

Harry rolled his eyes but didn't bother pressing the issue. It really wasn't all that important, even if he was curious about the bow-wielding knight and his motives. He was quite the enigma. What had Shirou done to earn the heroes spite? From what he knew, Shirou was quite likable. There was more to it than that.

"Whatever," he called out, stepping away from the railing and beginning to leave. "Send Rider my regards if you find her."

Dark eyes followed the fake hero until he vanished from even their considerable range, before vanishing themselves.

-x-**X**-x-

The waters behind Ryuudou Temple reminded Harry of the Black Lake at Hogwarts. They were nothing alike, of course – the Black Lake had been gigantic in size and volume, filled with all manner of animal; magical or otherwise. Harry doubted very much that the lake he was currently seated by had a giant squid waiting beneath its depths, waiting for a generous student to toss it some scraps, nor was it home to a colony of mermaid occupying the murky lakebed.

But the way the water gently lapped at the embankment, the setting sun casting impressive colours of orange and red across the surface like small, glimmering jewels...

...he felt like he was home, if only for a moment.

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply as he imagined the amazing Scotland landscape; the green grass of rolling hills, the mountainous snow-capped peaks in the distance, the dense ticket of trees that made up the ancient, dreadful forbidden forest. Then he thought about the stone walls of the castle itself, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy – tested by time, its beauty only increasing as the years went by. He remembered the first time he gazed upon the glorious structure, gathering for the boat ride across the mirror-like lake. The clear black sky had created the perfect backdrop, the glinting lights of the school wreathing the immense structure in a halo of light.

He had been awestruck, breathless, and he hadn't been alone.

He wanted that now, to immerse himself in that feeling. He reached for it, trying to grasp it tightly and never let go. He felt something stirring inside him, something warm blooming in his chest as he stretched with all his might.

Rin's words sounded in his head, followed by Archer's.

His eyes opened.

He sighed, idly skipping a stone across the tranquil lake. That wasn't his life anymore – never had been. He often wondered why he had never fought the idea that he wasn't real, that he was created by someone. This whole war could have been a trick, an enemy trying to unravel him piece by piece. Sure, the Grail had given him evidence, information – but that could have been a lie. It could all have been a lie.

But he knew it wasn't, had known right from the start. He couldn't explain it, exactly – but he would put it down to instinct, if nothing else. Maybe something more.

The dictionary defined fiction as thus: something feigned, invented, or imagined; a made-up story. The act of feigning, inventing, or imagining. _Yes_, Harry thought, _this defined him nicely_.

But he had very _real_ problems. Rider was still out there, for one – probably attempting to set up another one of her dangerous bounded fields. Then there was his Master, the original Caster – stealing the life-force of others, harming innocent people who had nothing to do with this war for her own gain. She was no better than the Servant he had been sent out to eliminate. He wasn't sure of the full details. He wasn't sure if he could trust Archer, trust Rin – but it did make sense. Where else was all this mana coming from? Even now, he could feel it pulsating under him, the air growing thicker by the day.

Maybe there were other explanations, but he wasn't so sure about that.

And then there were his memories.

He and Caster needed to talk.

She'd been busy when he returned, agitated about something. Kuzuki was the reason. They'd been talking about something and it had displeased his Master. He hadn't been able to overhear their discussion and thought better of trying to eavesdrop. He'd be caught within a second. That had been hours ago.

Perhaps now she would be in a better mood. A good enough mood to field some questions, at least.

He found her in the main prayer chamber, devoid of all other life, the monks unsurprisingly absent. She stood alone, the purple folds of her robe encasing her like a protective barrier. Harry approached cautiously, coming to a stop several feet away – yet she made no indication that she was aware of his presence. Shoulders hunched, her gloved hands were cradling something to her chest. He caught sight of something multicoloured and jagged. He didn't know what to make of it.

"Master," he called softly. She visibly tensed at the sound of his voice, fabric rustling as the object she had previously been inspecting vanished within various layers of cloth. "I wish to talk."

"..." Caster turned slowly, pale blue hair brushing against her soft skin. Again she was without her hood, attractive face and strange pointed ears revealed to him. "...do you now?"

Her voice was blank, neither angry nor sad, nor happy. Robotic, emotionless – she stared back at him neutrally. If anything could make such an attractive woman look ordinary, dull, it was the look on her face.

"Rider isn't dead," she commented before he could begin. Harry nodded slowly, anticipating punishment.

It never came.

"What is it?" she asked blandly. "What is it that you wish to discuss?"

The wizard gathered his thoughts. What should he ask, he wondered, where should he start? There were several things he wished to know, but perhaps he should start with himself.

"What am I?"

A tense silence followed the odd question. Caster blinked, tilting her head. It was the only hint that she'd processed what he'd asked.

He grew impatient. "Well?"

Caster nodded, a soft sigh escaping her lips. "Figured it out, have you?"

Harry shot her a puzzled look. "Figured what out?"

"You are Harry Potter," she explained. Her next words made something slide into place inside his mind. "But that isn't all you are."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Caster smiled. It was small, barely a quirk of her lips – and it was decidedly scary. "In simple terms... you are the embodiment of Harry Potter,"

_Embodiment?_

"Not the person," she continued, knowing her words only confused him more. The following felt like a punch in the gut. "But the worlds... essence, I suppose, is the word I'm looking for."

"What?" a feeling of dread settled over him. "I still don't understand."

"You are the combined form of your world. The collective thoughts, wishes and emotions of what makes Harry Potter what it is. You are everything that pieces that world together. _Everything._"

Mind blank, he stared at his Master – trying, failing, and trying again to comprehend just what she was telling him. Caster stared back, meeting his eyes and holding them. She nodded again, seemingly pleased by what she saw. He opened his mouth but nothing came out, so he shut it and tried again with similar results.

"How?" he finally got out, voice somewhat hoarse. "I mean," he reiterated. "Did you intend this?"

"No. The specifics elude even me," she began, a small frown gracing her fair features as she admitted such. "But I'm certain it has something to do with how your story – your _legend_ – is viewed by humanity as a whole. For some, their views are meaningless, but for others..." her expression became dark, sinister. "It means everything."

Harry swallowed. There was a story there, he knew – but he had more pressing matters at hand. Curiosity took a backseat. "Is that why I'm having dreams... of things I shouldn't have witnessed?"

"Indeed. They are a part of the books in which your story is told, so now they are a part of you."

He felt like sitting down, perhaps making a cup of tea, to keep his hands busy – but he was rooted to the spot, unmoving. He didn't bother asking how she knew his dreams were connected with his world and not this one. "Then why am I... Harry?" he felt weird, saying that. Why am I myself? It wouldn't make sense under any other circumstances. "Couldn't I have been anyone else?" he thought of the two most powerful wizards he ever encountered, the greatest magic users of his age. "Albus... _Riddle_?"

"That's simple," Caster chided. "Because no matter how many different people you could have turned out to be, the books – and thus the world – are all about Harry Potter. They are only there to help tell the story of Harry Potter. Harry is the centre piece, the focus – if there is anyone that represents that world perfectly, it is him... _you_."

Harry stared at his hands, clenching and unclenching his fingers, tracing the age lines with his eyes. For a stone that absorbed light, the Resurrection Stone glinted ominously from its place on his hand. Caster's eyes were drawn to the ring for a moment, before she fixed him with an intense stare.

"That isn't all."

Harry tilted his head. There was more? He wasn't sure he could handle more.

"Pull out your wand."

Harry followed her instructions, even if they were oddly random. Caster inspected the polished wood for a moment.

"That is the Deathstick, correct?"

He nodded. That was one of its many names. He didn't care much for Deathstick nor Wand of Destiny, personally – he rather liked Elder Wand. It was a simple name, for such an extraordinary tool.

"Where is your other one?"

"Rider snapped it," he explained pulling out the broken pieces of his original wand. The red and gold feather stuck out at an odd angle, the wood splintered on either side. It was completely useless as it was, but then he remembered that this wasn't the first time such an act had befallen his wand. The last time he had mended it with the Elder Wand with a simple repairing spell, something that should have been impossible.

Mind set, he began waving the Elder Wand above the splintered pieces before the voice of his Master stopped him cold.

"I want you to destroy it."

Harry looked up at her in surprise. "What?"

"You heard me," she said. "Don't fix it. Destroy it."

Jaw clenched, he looked into Casters eyes, trying to work out why she would ask this of him. They remained in tense silence for a bit, before reluctantly, he waved the Elder Wand in a circle, a ball of white hot flame incinerating what was left. Shaking his hand of the ashes, he glared at the blunette.

Caster hummed. "How badly do you want your wand back?"

Harry frowned. "But you just-"

She interrupted calmly. "Reach into your pocket and pull it out. It's that simple, if you want it bad enough."

He was starting to consider the real possibility that his Master was completely around the bend, but after hesitating for only a moment, he followed her words regardless – his free hand delving into the deep pockets of his wizarding robes. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do after that, his pocket was empty. He couldn't even find any lint, let alone eleven inches of holly, containing the single feather of a phoenix-

He almost jumped.

Hesitant fingers run over smooth wood, the familiar grains unforgettable even to his overworked mind. A rush of warmth run through him as he grasped the handle and pulled it free, blue and gold sparks erupting from the end in a fountain of light. He couldn't help but stare at the previously broken wand stupidly, disbelief etched on his face.

"What the hell is this?" he questioned. Rider had broken it and he had destroyed it utterly. It shouldn't have been possible.

"Haven't I already explained it enough?" Caster asked, clearly amused at his shock.

_In simple terms... you are the embodiment of Harry Potter..._

_You are the combined form of your world. The collective thoughts, wishes and emotions of what makes Harry Potter what it is. You are everything that pieces that world together. Everything..._

"Then I can..." he trailed off, the Elder Wand and his original holly wand fading away at his mental command. Surely that didn't mean he could...

He thought of another wand, one he was intimately familiar with – but in a different way.

Thirteen and a half inches, made from yew. Phoenix feather core.

The wand of Lord Voldemort.

It felt strangely good, holding the wand of his nemesis. There was no surge of warmth, but a different sensation – a cold, creeping power that swept through him, like ice in his veins. He knew then that this wand would work just as well as his original. He was its master.

"How come I didn't notice this before?" he asked.

"You were doing it subconsciously. You expected to have those items on you, so you didn't question it. And as you can tell, their creation uses no mana."

She was right. There had been no tug on his reserves of mana. The only item he could remember that used any of his power regardless was the Cloak of Invisibility, but that was because it was always active – you could not turn it off, no matter how you wished it.

Harry vanished the wand and thought of something else, something simple but magical. He was giddy with anticipation, the dread he felt over the subject fading at this new revelation.

The Remembrall that appeared in his hand was a perfect replica of the one owned by one of his friends – Neville Longbottom. He caressed the smooth surface, watching as the white smoke churned inside and turned scarlet, leeching miniature amounts of mana. He had forgotten something.

_Oh, right..._

He wondered how to breach this particular topic, but then decided that beating around the bush would do no good. Blunt, to the point – the time for pussyfooting was over. It had worked for the previous topic, so...

"This power gathering at the temple," he began, dismissing the orb of churning smoke. "It's the life force of people in town, isn't it?"

Caster quirked an eyebrow, adopting a rather aloof stance – but Harry saw the way her shouldered tensed ever so slightly.

"And where has this come from, I wonder?" she asked, tapping her chin with a finger thoughtfully.

"So it is true," he sounded disappointed. "You are harming innocent people."

Caster frowned then, the first solid emotion he had gotten out of her since the conversation had begun.

"Are you judging me?" she sounded dangerous and Harry fought the urge to step back. "I have no magus for a Master, so I need to find energy elsewhere – just as you have. Are our methods so different?"

"I take from the dead," he admitted, glancing down at the ring on his finger. "But it does no harm, for they would have told me themselves. In fact, they rather like being called upon. But you... you are harming people that have nothing to do with this war. How can you sit here so calmly and tak-"

That was as far as he got before he collapsed, body twitching as his chest exploded in a shower of blood. Harry gasped, crimson pooling in his mouth as he struggled for breath, and if he were to look down, he would see his ribcage torn open, jagged bone reaching for the sky. Through the pain, he struggled up, vision blurry as he pulled himself into a seated position.

"I won't be lectured by the likes of you," Caster shouted, face twisted in anger. Sneering at him in disgust, she swiped her hand through the air and as if nothing had happened, the wound was gone, blood and all. Even the pain had disappeared completely, leaving the fake wizard to recover his wits. He felt weak, drained, as if she had sucked all the energy out of him. He wasn't far wrong, for he could feel his now dangerously low mana pool. He was in no danger of disappearing, but spell casting would be severly limited.

"Now I have work to do," she spoke coolly, glaring at him. "Get back to your gate."

And with a whirl of purple, she vanished.

-x-**X**-x-

It was a well known fact among the magically-inclined that humans could not compare to Servants.

They were outstripped in every possible way, from speed to strength, to endurance and beyond; a human attempting to defeat a Servant in battle was suicide, all without even mentioning their Noble Phantasms. Only the brave or stupid would try – or stupidly brave – and Saber thought the end result would be the same every time, no matter what.

And then she met Kuzuki Souichirou.

He attacked unlike any opponent she had ever encountered before, his lightning fast, looping strikes confusing her, penetrating her guard without warning. He was inhumanly swift and as strong as an ox, the first few blows almost-but-not-quite putting the servant of the sword down, ending the fight prematurely. She tried to defend herself, to get her invisible blade between them, but every time she tried, he was one step ahead. He reminded her of a snake, the element of surprise on his side, striking from impossible angles with his strange style that she could not counter, his whipping movements much too strange to predict as she was.

She couldn't believe it, didn't _want_ to believe it, but she was losing.

To a human.

The petite knight grunted as she was hit once more, being forced back as he continued his unrelenting assault. A clumsy swing on her part opened up her futile guard and she was struck several more times, each punch harder than the last. If she weren't a Servant, she knew she'd have been finished, for surely no ordinary person could take such punishment.

He was a monster.

-x-**X**-x-

"Saber!" Shirou called out, worried. Saber hoped he wouldn't try anything stupid and get between them.

"Kukuku," Caster chortled in delight, maintaining the reinforcement magic cast on her Master. She had arrived just in time, their trap having lured out three little mice. She hadn't approved of the method, had been unhappy and felt that Souichirou-sama had been in undue danger by being the bait, but had relented to his plan in the end. It had been risky and she had almost been too late to cast the necessary magics due to her own Servants interruption, but it had worked out, and now she had her sights set on Saber.

Rin had tried to help but with Caster's arrival, whatever help she could provide had been countered, her grasp of magecraft much to advanced. Now it was only a matter of time until Saber was defeated, and then...

...and then not death, but enslavement awaited the blonde-haired knight.

Caster knew she could not win this war alone. Even with her exceptionally skilled Master and her odd Servant, they didn't have the firepower needed to take down the one true threat, the one Servant who could crush all their hard work under his bulk like they weren't even there.

Berserker.

She knew who he was. Hercules, son of Zeus; a demi-god, one who ascended to full godhood after his death. She had a good idea on what his Noble Phantasm was, an idea that was seemingly confirmed with each encounter she witnessed through her various familiars spread around the city. Even the impressive Noble Phantasm of Lancer – or rather, Cú Chulainn – failed to even wound the brute.

It would take everything she had and then some. That is where Saber came in.

While she was still unsure what hero – or heroine, as the case was – Saber represented, it mattered little. Caster needed all the help she could get before tackling Berserker and having witnessed the two Servants locking blades earlier in the war, she knew without a doubt that with a better Master, someone who could provide her with sufficient mana, Saber would be a force to be reckoned with.

The fight didn't last much longer, the noble Servant dropped by a surgical strike to the base of the neck. Caster watched in satisfaction as Saber fell, her Master victorious.

"_Trace, on._"

Shirou shot forward like a bullet, magic circuits screaming as he created familiar twin swords from memory. Caster blinked, surprised and somewhat thrown off. Shirou put everything he could behind his swings, but all for naught, the blades shattering against Kuzuki's powerful fists. His former teacher then lashed out, the red-head doubling over as he was pounded in the stomach by what felt like a sledgehammer, lifting him off his feet.

He landed in a heap, gasping and spitting blood.

Caster stared down at the struggling teen, a frown marring her hidden face.

"You remind me o-"

She never finished, raising her hands quickly and summoning a shield of amethyst energy to surround Kuzuki. Moments later, a shower of steel crashed against the dome, attempting to penetrate to no effect. The blades all exploded upon impact, shattered from the sheer force of their collision. It only lasted a few more seconds before tampering off, revealing the perpetrator.

Caster had forgotten that she was in the presence of two Master's not including her own, but only one Servant. She had completely forgotten about the Servant of Rin.

"Archer," she hissed, enraged at the attack against her Master.

The crimson knight crouched lazily atop a nearby roof, a cocky smirk on his face. "Caster,"

Pointing her hand, a foreign dialect spilled from her lips that even the translation magic of the grail failed to capture, a beam of purple light rocketing from her fingertips towards the annoying interloper. Archer swore, realising he couldn't evade in time and summoned his twin swords, Kanshou and Bakuya, holding them in a cross guard as the spell struck. The swords held true, but the sheer kinetic force blew the silver-haired hero from the roof and out of sight, crashing through a wooden fence in the process.

"That arrogant man is starting to get on my nerves," Caster muttered, moving towards Saber. From within her robes, she pulled a peculiar dagger, thin, brittle and jagged, the blade a hue of different colours. Rule Breaker was its name, the ultimate anti-magic Noble Phantasm. It was capable of dispelling and destroying all manner of magecraft, including the contracts set down by the Holy Grail between Master and Servant. It was with this weapon that she sought to obtain Saber once and for all.

"I don't think so," Archer said from behind, drawing back for the killing blow. Caster's eyes widened in shock, _how had he moved so fas-_

Black and white blades moved, arcing towards one another, aiming for Caster's slender neck. Time felt like it crawled, the swords ever so slowly coming together, ready and willing to end her life in a shower of blood. But then, without warning, they stopped, moments before the end. Caster smiled.

Kuzuki stood between them, powerful hands wrapped around the wrists of Archer, stopping him cold. Archer grunted in irritation, launching a kick that was blocked with a knee, and then the man retaliated with a looping, whip-like strike that forced Archer back and away, immediately put on the defensive. Kuzuki continued forward, fists blurring as he fought his second heroic spirit of the night.

Archer tried to create some distance between them but the man followed, his odd movements making him hard to predict. However, Archer's style of fighting wasn't exactly normal either, his swords almost finding purchase multiple times as they exchanged blows. Archer was clearly faster, stronger, yet style was everything in this fight. He wasn't allowed to get comfortable and set himself, wasn't allowed to use his abilities to the fullest.

It was time for something else.

Several swords materialized above them, falling from the heavens like divine punishment. Kuzuki abandoned pressing forward and moved to the side, a large broadsword burying itself in the ground to the hilt, punching through asphalt like it didn't exist. The school teacher was forced to weave in and out, blades of all different makes and sizes attempting to turn him into a pincushion without success. They came faster and faster, zipping through the air with such velocity that the wind howled in their wake, yet the man escaped every time. He looked like he was dancing, his footwork impeccable.

"Saber!"

Archer turned towards Shirou...

...and watched in shock as Caster drove the jagged, multi-hued dagger through Saber's breastplate and into her chest.

-x-**X**-x-

**AN: **Okay, what can I say? At first, I was only taking a small break to rest the mind and recharge the batteries, and then real life got in the way. It's been a pretty busy year. Most of this chapter has been completed for months, yet I could never find the time – or the will – to finish it to my liking. I re-wrote it entirely – twice – and eventually, finally, this is what I have to show for it.

I still don't like it, but I feel this is the best I can do with it without doing a third re-write. I really can't be arsed doing that.

In saying that, this might the last update for awhile. My world is about to get a whole lot busier for certain reasons and I don't really know when I'll have access to a computer full time again. It could be a month or a year, I have no idea.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. Oh, and for the people who think Harry is a ladies man, he really, truly isn't. Not even close. Hopefully I can show why, at some point.


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